only red flames live here now
by she.dreams.in.colour
Summary: A royal elopement brings a thousand Greek warships seeking to conquer the Trojan shores. As the battle of gods and men wage on, a prince of Sparta finds himself wanting to ravage not only the city of Troy but a certain fair-haired maiden as well. Trojan War AU, not strictly compliant to Iliad.
1. Respice Finnem

A/N: Hi, this is my first shot at a TVD fanfic so if you could please be kind. :)

-o-

**Prologue**

Respice Finnem: _Look to the End_

* * *

The Aegen sea rippled endless, the cool, placid waters sparkling brilliantly amidst the blistering heat of the Mediterranean sun. Above, the midsummer skies were as clear and as boundless, with barely a cloud in sight. A lone hawk soared in the heavens, its falconine eyes beholding the distant horizon.

From the bow of the Grecian ship where he stood, Niklaus of Sparta could hardly tell where the sea ended and where the sky began. The same winds that blew the Spartan flag aflutter in the topmast tugged gently at his ash blond locks, yet the third son of King Mikael paid it no heed. He may have been a warrior by obligation, but Klaus was an artist by choice, and presently the artist in him was completely captivated by the infinite canvas of azure which reflected stunningly in his own blue eyes.

Lush lips curled into an amused smile as he thought about the irony of the situation. Blue was the colour that was said to represent peace, but he, with the hundred thousand other men in the thousand other Greek ships that now tread the Aegean waters, was sailing to war.

"Smiling all by ourselves now, are we?" a voice from behind him spoke. "I heard from the Athenians that it's a sign of madness."

Klaus smirked, not bothering to turn as he easily recognized the speaker's smug impression. "I was simply thinking about how fun it would be if I could throw you off the ship and watch you drown, Kol."

The young man grinned as he walked towards the balustrade to join his older brother. With his oak-coloured hair and soft brown eyes, Kol bore little semblance to Klaus, save for their sinewy bodies and the faint cleft in their chins. Their temperament was an entirely different matter; the brothers often butted heads because each was as bold, as brash and as stubborn as the other, but as with all brothers they secretly looked after each other.

"That would be fun indeed, but mother will kill you if father does not do it first." Kol replied impishly, looking onto the waters himself. "Besides, I am not the man prophesised to die in this war, am I?"

Niklaus' brow furrowed. "I didn't know that you believe in oracles now."

"Psh. Oracles are nothing but women driven mad by years of wanting to be touched by men. Most of them, anyway." Kol said. "But do admit, the oracle of Delphi is something entirely different."

Klaus did not answer, though his fingers gripped the wooden guardrails a little more tightly. Before they left for war, the king had sent his four sons to the temple of Delphi to seek the blessing of gods, as was custom for Spartan royalty; instead, the chief priestess told them of her vision, a message from the gods - if Niklaus went to war, he would not return home.

But Klaus was Klaus, so he paid the oracle no heed and left with the first ship that sailed to Troy.

"Did you see the look in her eyes when she foretold that you will not be back if you went to Troy?" Kol asked when his brother remained silent. "It was… otherworldly. I tell you, Niklaus, I do not believe in oracles but I cannot find it in myself to disregard what that priestess said."

"Do not be ridiculous, Kol. I have defied prophecy once, and I can do it again." Klaus retorted. "And frankly, I do not understand how you can believe any of those priestesses in Delphi, given how many of those supposedly pure women you have snuck into your chambers in the dead of the night."

The younger prince pursed his lips as he shrugged. It was known all over Sparta that when Niklaus was born a seer from Calchis had foretold that his life would be short, but with equal expanse of industry and determination he had defied the foreign oracle's prophecy and ever since refused to believe in them. It was equally known all over the kingdom that Kol was an inexhaustible flirt who dallied with any woman he fancied, and much to their king father's frustration, Kol did not care whether the women were commoners or royalties, and at times even priestesses.

"I do not look forward to your death, brother. I only wish that you be more careful." Kol said softly.

The older prince fell silent at his brother's words. Neither he nor Kol had ever been particularly expressive when it came to any emotion other than anger, and Klaus knew that it was the closest that his sharp-witted and even sharper-tongued brother was ever going to get to saying he cared about him. But it was enough.

"I have always been careful. Always one step ahead, remember?" Niklaus finally replied, giving his younger brother a small smile.

Kol nodded quietly, and Klaus guiltily turned to the blue sea if only to avoid the look of concern that was still too evident in his brother's eyes.

He tried to feign indifference, but the truth was that he felt the same uneasiness that Kol did about the priestess' prophecy. Niklaus did not believe in oracles, but he trusted his gut feel, and intuition told him that this war may be unlike the others that he had fought and won in the name of Sparta. The lone reason why he even came to the war was because if there was anything that the prince valued more than his life, it was his family.

Barely a month before, the Trojan prince Damon had abducted Elena, his eldest brother Elijah's bride, and Klaus had seen how his kind-hearted brother went through pain like he had never known before nor ever in his lifetime deserved. Now the Greeks were on their way to Troy to claim back the woman that rightfully belonged to their prince, and Niklaus, foretold to die or not, did not want to be anywhere else but by his brother's side. The five children of King Mikael were like fingers of a hand – when right was done to one, they extend a hand of friendship; but when wrong was done to one, they banded together to form a fist.(1)

Klaus' blue eyes narrowed grimly as he looked onto the horizon. The king's orders where clear: make Damon pay for his insolence, and make the entirety of Troy suffer for standing by their scoundrel prince when they could – _should_ - have given Elena back. Klaus had every intention of standing by his brother and carrying out his father's commands.

And after that, oracles be damned, but he was going to ascertain that he would return, with everyone else, home.

-o-

In the tranquil silence of the quarter moon, Damon of Troy placed a soft kiss on his sleeping wife's forehead before gently getting up from their bed. The crown prince of Troy quietly made his way to the door, but found that he could not manage to leave the confines of the bedchamber without looking once more at the woman who carried in her womb his unborn son.

With her chestnut-brown hair falling softly upon her bare shoulders and the moonlight bathing her serene face, Elena of Sparta – no, Damon rectified himself; it's Elena of Troy now – was indeed the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. This woman had presently brought him into quite a predicament, but he doubted if anyone could accost him for proclaiming Aphrodite the fairest of the goddesses after the later had promised to make Elena fall in love with him.

Damon sighed as he turned the brass knobs to close the doors of his bedroom. Yes, he stole his wife from another man, but he could not care any less about what anyone else had to say so long as Elena was with him, in his bed, moaning his name and-

"I hope you're proud of yourself."

Damon looked up, immediately greeted by the sight of his younger brother Stefan standing outside his bedchamber. A scowl marred the younger man's usually calm face, muscular arms tightly folded across his broad chest.

_This is what I get for wanting to drink wine this late at night._ Damon groaned inwardly.

"Father's allies in the west have sent word of caution. A thousand warships, a hundred thousand men from all over Greece. In less than a full moon, King Mikael of Sparta will lead them to Troy, and his sons will be there to aid their brother, from whom you stole your wife." Stefan said, the disdain in his voice veiled only too thinly.

Damon rolled his eyes. Stefan was his lone brother, but more often than not he could not believe how dissimilar they were, and that was not to speak merely about appearance. Blue-eyed and raven-haired, Damon was of wiry build, lean but nonetheless elegantly strapped body allowing him to be agile and sharp. He followed his heart more than his head, trusting the gods of Olympus to steer him where they pleased. In contrast, Stefan had eyes of olive green and hair the color of wheat in summer; he was heftily built, strength and intellect his gifts from the gods. The younger prince believed in analytical thinking and apt preparedness, which to his older brother sometimes translated to being an annoying worrywart.

And that was precisely what Damon thought of him now.

"Why do you worry about Mikael and his sons, brother?" Damon bit out, underlining the last word. "You and I are enough to defeat them. Aphrodite will aid us, she is patron to me and mother to Alaric, who is kin to us."

Sefan looked at him sternly. "Do not get me wrong, brother. I am glad that you have the woman you love, and I consider Elena as my sister now. What concerns me is how you fail to think about your actions before you do them. You dragged Troy to hell with yourself when you abducted the betrothed of the man who treated you as a guest in his house!"

"Oh, Stefan, quit being your doomsaying self." The older prince dismissed. "If you think that you, I and Alaric are inadequate, then I'll wager that the Romans will take our side as well. Tyler will do anything for Caroline."

As if on cue, a blonde-haired woman suddenly appeared in the hallway, immediately seizing the arguing brothers' attention.

Her golden hair was gathered into a loose chignon adorned by a single jewelled clasp, with several loose tendrils gently framing her delicate face. She wore a chiton of pale blue, the hem of the soft fabric briefly swaying to and fro as her nimble feet halted from taking another step. Her eyes, the cerulean color of the Agean Sea during a rare cloudless day, widened nervously upon the sight of the two men.

"Speaking of Caroline." Damon said, smirking.

"What are you two doing here?" Caroline murmured anxiously. "Midnight has struck past!"

"I was merely telling our responsible brother here that the Greeks are coming to plunder Troy because he could not keep his hands away from places other than his -" Stefan took off, but suddenly stopped. His eyes narrowed as he looked at the young girl. "Should I not be the one to ask you that, Caroline? Why in Zeus' name are you awake at this hour?"

The blonde bit her lower lip uneasily. "Well, Stefan, I…"

Damon rolled his eyes again. Caroline, eight years his junior and six years Stefan's, had never been good at any kind of deception; in fact her efforts were pathetic at best. A princess of Troy, taken in as her uncle Giuseppe's ward after her parents died in the war that lost the kingdom of Thasos, she was reared to be sweet and docile like any other female royalty, and most of the time she was. But there was a light inside of her that seem to burn through her noble upbringing. She was a free spirit, eager and sprightly, fascinated with everything that the world had to offer.

"I think this is the part where I say 'speaking of Tyler'." Damon interjected.

Stefan glowered at his adoptive sister upon hearing her suitor's name.

"We were talking in the gardens," Caroline tried to explain. "We were so engrossed that we failed to take note of the time."

"Pray, Caroline, do tell what you were talking about." Damon goaded, in a poorly concealed effort to manipulate his virtuous younger brother's attention away from the topic of the Greeks.

Caroline smiled at them wistfully. "His home. Rome. Did you know that it was founded by a man who is said to have suckled from a she-wolf? Tyler says he will ask for father's permission to take me there soon."

"Tyler can ask for permission after I speak to him about his manners tomorrow." Stefan snapped coldly. "What was he thinking, keeping a woman to himself at such unholy hours! Now go to sleep, Caroline, before I get the good mind to tell father about this."

The blonde frowned but said nothing more, and the younger prince turned to his elder brother again. "Damon, we need to speak to father tomorrow. There is going to be a war, and if you want to have a throne to inherit, then please, you should begin caring about Troy more than you care about wine."

As Stefan turned to leave, Caroline looked at Damon uneasily. "He's wrong, isn't he? The Greeks… they will never conquer Troy… right, brother?"

Damon held his sister's gaze, intending to tell her not to worry, but realized that he could not. "Are you not friend to a priestess of Apollo, the one said to have the gift of prophecy?" he found himself asking her instead. "Does she tell you about the war?"

"Bonnie?" Caroline said. "She says strange things that I sadly do not understand. The priestesses say that they think Apollo truly speaks to her, but she fails to understand him and in turn fails to relay to us the god's message. They do not believe her oracles."

The heir to the throne of Troy nodded, satisfied with her answer. Apprehension still hung in his chest, no thanks to Stefan's harsh parting words, but for now, the situation seemed well enough. After all, Troy was city whose gates, in a thousand years, had never been felled.

He prayed to the gods that those gates would hold for another thousand.

-o-

Just a few notes. :)

1. This line is an indirect quotation from Our Last Best Chance, written by King Abdulah II of Jordan. My dad has a collection of books written by world leaders and I borrow a book or two from time to time. :)

2. The story is based on the Trojan War but will not follow the Iliad plot strictly. There are many details about the adaptation that are wrong altogether, like Damon being older than Stefan (Paris was younger than Hector), Elijah being a prince of Sparta (Helen's husband Menelaus was king) and Tyler being a Roman (Aeneas founded Rome after the Trojan war) but I never did find a way to work out all the loopholes so I hope you don't mind if I simply let them be.

3. As of now, pairings aren't established yet. There's definitely Klaus/Caroline, with a bit of Tyler, Kol and Elijah joining the fray, but the rest I'm not so sure about. I am open to suggestions. :D

I hope you enjoyed this, and thanks for reading!


	2. Detur Digniori

**Chapter One**

Detur Digniori: _Let It be Given to the More Worthy_

* * *

They came in the silence of twilight, cloaked by the darkness of raven skies and shrouded by the treacherous fog that appeared over the sea that night. By daybreak, when the royal palace was awakened by the soldier who brought tidings of Greek ships being sighted, the invaders were a mere four hours from shore.

"Troy has never had fog during summer, not in the waters nor in land." Stefan noted as he glanced at his brother from across the intricately carved table where they sat down to discuss the war. Thankfully for Stefan, the gravity of the situation seemed to have finally sunk into Damon's head; when before he merely brushed aside concerns about the Greeks, that day he was vigilant, immediately instructing his men to bring the people of Troy to safety within the city's great walls.

"This is a doing of the gods, no doubt. It is impossible to favour one without earning the ire of the others." spoke a tall, sturdily-built man with sand-colored hair and eyes of saxe blue. Here was Alaric, the demigod, son of Aphrodite and the Trojan King Giuseppe's brother, Anchises.

"Of course." Damon answered ruefully. "Thankfully we have your mother, who will protect Troy."

Alaric shook his head. "Sadly, mother's works are of love, not of war. It is the goddess Athena who will bring us peril. She is second only to Ares in the ways of war, and my mother will never equal her in battle. We must seek to appease her."

"Oh please, let us not waste our time kissing a resentful goddess' ass." Damon retorted, flinching as he remembered Athena's anger when he declared Aphrodite fairest. "I am to blame for this war, but neither my guilt nor my kneeling before her will placate her, and it is insanity to believe otherwise."

"But Alaric's suggestion has merit." Stefan insisted. "The warrior Lynceus angered Athena when he killed one of her owls; Sardis was spared ruin only after the queen burned her best robe as an offering."

"Then who would you like to send to Apollo's temple to offer Athena her best robe, Elena or Caroline?" Damon replied irately, rising from his seat to point at the temple's location in the map splayed across the table; clearly it was beyond the walls that protected the city.

Stefan narrowed his eyes at his brother. "Maybe you should have thought of that before you decided to go on your Spartan adventure."

"Enough!" Alaric exclaimed, setting himself between the brothers. "This is not the time for us to be divided..."

In the midst of the argument, none of the three men noticed that just outside the doorway leading to the room where they were in, Elena stood limply, having heard the entire conversation.

She had gone looking for Damon when she awoke without him by her side, but after hearing the men's discussion, she slunk away from the room and hurriedly headed back to her bed chambers. Immense guilt consumed her, knowing that she was the reason why Troy was in danger, but she tried to fight the guilt back with courage and determination as she proceeded to the wardrobe where she stored her garments.

She opened it and drew out a magnificent golden robe, adorned with countless precious jewels that shone brilliantly in her pale white hands. _If this is what it takes to save Troy_, Elena thought as she hastily fashioned a makeshift sack from a couple of linen sheets and put in it the golden robe. She reached for a drab-colored cloak, preparing to sneak her way out of the palace.

"Elena?"

Elena turned, seeing her husband's sister looking at her quizzically. The brunette tried to conceal the linen sack she held, but it was too late.

"Father wants you to join us for breakfast…" Caroline said, eyeing Elena's cloaked form with uncertainty. She locked the doors of the bedchamber before sitting next to the woman who had become her best friend, whispering as quietly as she could. "What are you doing?"

Elena hesitated for a moment, but then looked at Caroline with fortitude in her eyes. "I must go to the temple of Apollo."

"What? But the Greeks are coming! The gates will be sealed soon!" Caroline told her anxiously.

Elena's expression was pained. "Troy is in danger because I left Sparta for your brother. I regret none of it, because I truly love him, but I cannot have the blood of blameless Trojans be spilt in my behalf."

She lifted part of the cloth that covered the package she held in her trembling hands, revealing the jewel-laden gold fabric. Caroline looked worriedly at Elena, her blue eyes asking silently.

"My best robe. I shall take it to the temple and offer it to Athena so her wrath may be diminished and the innocent might be saved." Elena said ever compassionately.

At those words, a wave of calmness washed over the dread that had filled Caroline's chest. She understood why Damon had fallen for this girl and did everything for them to be together- Elena had every right to be vain, but she was selfless; she had everything yet wanted only to be kind; she was weak, but she tried to be strong for the people she cared for.

How could the gods let any harm befall upon a person of such kindness?

"I cannot let you go beyond this hallway." Caroline declared. "For the guards will only stop you at the gates. Come, I will show you a passage that only I and Damon know; it's how we used to sneak out of the palace when he taught me how to ride horses. Let us go together to pray for Athena's mercy."

-o-

"Come on, Niklaus, we've been here for an hour. I'm bored, let's go have some fun."

A vein throbbed in Klaus' forehead as he summoned every inch of control in his body to stop himself from hitting his younger brother. Kol had been complaining endlessly of boredom for the last hour, and the short-tempered Klaus could only take so much. Then again, clobbering Kol might not be such a ludicrous idea, especially since it was his fault why they landed ashore earlier than all the others.

"If you had not threatened the soldiers to sail as fast as the waters allowed, then we would not be here waiting for everyone else, so shut it." Klaus huffed. He scolded himself inwardly for trusting that he could sleep while Kol was awake - look at what happened.

"I'm sorry, but my plan was actually to arrive early so I can start sacking Troy before everyone else." Kol informed him.

The vein in Klaus' forehead throbbed harder. "You think you can conquer Troy by yourself? I know you are young and you need to prove yourself in battle, but if you continue with this stupidity, this war may well be your last!"

Kol glowered, but Klaus ignored him. "Do not look at me like that, Kol. Go to your quarters and sleep or something. We will wait for the king before we move and that is final."

The younger prince rolled his eyes, but fully aware that there wasn't anything he could do against his older brother, he gave up and wordlessly headed for his tent. He secretly wished that he had sailed in his brother Finn's ship, so he would be stuck here with Finn instead of Klaus. At least Finn let Kol do anything he wanted, save for flirting with his beloved Sage.

As he trudged towards the encampment, Kol spied from the corner of his eye a structure quite some distance from the shore but as evenly detached from the gated Trojan city. He tried to recall the Trojan maps he had studied before sailing to war and recognized the outline of the marble sculpture atop the pillared building: it was that of Apollo, the god of the sun.

Kol glanced at Klaus, who had gone on to speak to a soldier. A mischievous smile crept unto his lips.

Looks like he was going to have his fun after all.

-o-

BAM!

Caroline's head flicked towards the direction of the hallway, the pillars of chamber quivering as the sound of something wooden and heavy being felled reverberated through out the temple. Furious screams and the clashing sound of swords launched into the air; her eyes widen with fear.

"The Greeks are here!" a voice bellowed from outside.

Caroline looked at the equally frightened Elena, who froze in her place, seemingly having second thoughts as to whether she should go on or run. Deciding quickly, the blonde yanked her sister-in-law's arm in an effort to lead her out of the temple, out of danger.

"No!" Elena refused, snapping out of her petrified state. "We're here now. We have to make the offering!"

The blonde saw the courage burning intensely in the brunette's eyes. She bit her lip, knowing that nothing could make Elena change her mind.

Caroline caved in. "Take the robe to the altar. I will get the torch so we can burn it."

Elena nodded, running towards the pyre atop the sacrificial altar while Caroline rushed for one of the torches at the left side of the chamber. She gripped the burning stake with both hands and scrambled back to the altar where Elena had begun prayer, climbing its stairs two steps at a time.

She was halfway through the altar's twelve steps when her foot caught the hem of her himation. She slipped, twisting her ankle, and at the next moment she was faltering all the way down. A cry of pain escaped her dry throat as she landed on the hard floor surface, the torch extinguished.

"Caroline!" Elena cried, rushing down to be by Caroline's side. She tried to help her sister-in-law get to her feet, but Caroline winced, the pain unbearable. Tears of pain mixed with those of frustration as she fell back down on the foor.

A warrior suddenly burst into the chamber, making Elena scream.

"Caroline!"

Caroline looked up, and from her tear-stained eyes she saw a blonde, blue-eyed man who had on the distinct claret habiliment of the Roman empire. Matt!

Caroline was relieved that aid had come, but suddenly noticed that Matt carried in his arms an unmoving, raven-haired girl wearing the white chiton held in reserve for the priestesses of Apollo.

"Why are you here? What happened?" Matt asked, alarmed, as he knelt to see the broken ankle that Caroline nursed.

"What happened to Bonnie?" Caroline ignored Matt's question.

Matt's turned to Elena, who looked at him remorsefully "It's my fault. I wanted to present an offering to Athena to ask for her mercy. Caroline hurt herself trying to help me."

A tortured cry filled the air, and Matt eyed the hallway forebodingly before carefully heaving Bonnie's limp body unto his right shoulder to free his hands, and then trying to help Caroline up. "We have to get out of here. Can you get on your feet?"

Caroline shook her head helplessly. "Where is Tyler?"

"Tyler isn't here yet. We were at Pergamos negotiating for his father when he learned that the Greeks were near. He sent me and some other soldiers to be of assistance to your brothers. We were helping the Trojan soldiers remove the priestesses when the attack came, and this one fainted."

"She must be having visions. Bonnie looses consciousness whenever she has visions," Caroline said. With great sense of urgency, she took Elena's hand and gave it to Matt. "You must bring Bonnie back to the city. Take Elena with you."

"No!" Matt replied almost the same time Elena objected. "You are hurt! I cannot leave you here!"

"You can't bring all three of us!" Caroline argued. "I will only slow you down. Then none of us will make it. You must save Elena. We cannot allow the Greeks to take her!"

Matt heard clanking armors and sounds of slashing flesh just beyond the chamber entrance, and for a split second he froze in reluctance; but then with anguish in his face he stood up to pull Elena towards him. The Roman warrior looked one final time at the girl his best friend loved, swearing to go back for her once Elena and Bonnie were safe, before bolting out of the chamber.

Caroline inhaled sharply, bracing herself for whatever was to come.

A Trojan soldier appeared on the doorway, battling a yet seen opponent from the other side. The Trojan fought bravely, swinging his sword with all his might, but the enemy was stronger, faster. It took only a moment for the unseen warrior to bring down his sword and pierce through the Trojan's chest, eliciting a sickening squelch that made the man choke and fall unto the floor face first. There was complete silence as blood from the fallen man's chest oozed on the cold marble surface.

Caroline trembled as a Spartan warrior entered the chamber, holding in his hands the sword that took the Trojan soldier's life, dripping menacingly with blood.

Gorgeous hazel eyes swept the room, resting upon the sight of the disheveled but no less beautiful girl alone on the floor. The Spartan put his sword back on the gilded sheath that hung in his waist before slowly making his way towards Caroline. Once in front of her, he got down on one knee to meet her fearful blue eyes.

He brought his hand up to touch her chin, but she recoiled from him.

The warrior smiled, amused. "Aren't you a feisty little thing."

-o-

Anger seethed through the trail that Niklaus blazed as he made his way further into Apollo's temple, prepared to slay anyone who dared block his way. His eyes searched relentlessly for any sign of his idiot brother Kol - he could only pray that the brat did not do anything even more stupid than casting an attack at Trojan ground with only a dozen of his men.

"How could you not notice that your brother is missing? Such a simple task, only to wait for us to land, and still you fail!" A man behind Klaus said irately, anger all too evident on his face. His hair was almost entirely silver, but with his hardened body and intense cobalt eyes, no one would dare call him an old man. It was Mikael himself, the powerful King of Sparta.

Klaus wanted to answer in defense, but a hand held on his arm and gentle russet eyes dissuaded him from doing so. "Let us not blame Klaus, Father. Kol's doings are his own, and he alone is responsible for them." The tall, powerfully-built warrior calmly answered for Klaus. Here was Elijah, crown prince of Sparta, the man whose bride Damon of Troy stole.

Klaus focused back on his search for Kol, entering yet another chamber littered with fallen weaponry and strewn with bodies of slain soldiers, Greeks and Trojans alike. This one though, unlike all the others, finally allowed him the sight of his brother, alive and unharmed.

"Niklaus!" Kol called out, pleasantly surprised. "And Father. And Elijah!"

Klaus gritted his teeth, wanting to wring Kol's neck himself for having the grit to be chirpy like that right after directly disobeying his orders. However, he paused when he saw that Kol carried in his arms a woman.

She reminded Klaus of their sister Rebekah, with hair of spun gold and lips like carnations. In her eyes, however, was none of the cunning and confident sense of entitlement that King Mikael's only daughter had. Instead there was fear, uncertainty and indignation melting together; for a moment, Klaus held her gaze in his, blue sinking into blue.

The girl turned away to look at Kol disdainfully, fidgeting in his grasp every so often, clearly indicating that she did not appreciate the way Kol had captured her in his arms. The young Spartan prince on the other hand did not seem to care about his captive's anger at all.

"Kol…" Elijah uttered, at a loss for words as he looked at his brother and then at the woman he brought with him. The butterfly-shaped clasp which fought to hold on to her tousled hair seemed to seize his attention.

"Isn't she stunning? She is my prize, for taking the temple of Apollo from the Trojans with only twelve of my men. I lost eight of them, but who cares." Kol proclaimed cheerfully. The woman in his arms squirmed again, visibly displeased at being declared a prize, but Kol held her tight.

King Mikael stormed furiously at his youngest son. "Prize, you say? No Kol, you do not get a prize for acting so foolishly! Did I not instruct you before we left that no move shall be made without my permission? What if harm had fallen upon you?"

Kol looked heartbrokenly at Elijah's direction, seemingly asking why his father couldn't simply be pleased that he had achieved to take the temple of Apollo, but his eyes did not even meet his brother's. Elijah's gaze was still fixated on the blonde maiden.

The king motioned for one of the soldiers to come. He drew the man's sword and handed it to his fair-haired son. Klaus' lips parted in confusion, and Mikael pointed towards at Caroline. "Kill her. She is not a prize. She does not prove your brother's strength, only his stupidity."

Caroline froze, her frail hands, which formerly fisted her captor, now holding on tightly unto his chest.

"No."

Klaus, Kol and Mikael concurrently turned to the source of the sudden objection.

"Give her to me, Father." Elijah said firmly, with resolve that neither Klaus nor Kol had ever seen their kindhearted elder brother show. "I am the man who the Trojans denied of a bride, and before I take back the woman they stole, I shall take one of their own for myself."

Mikael looked at his eldest son, surprised but satisfied at the fire that he saw in Elijah's eyes. He often thought of Elijah as too moral to be the leader that Mikael currently was, with solid control of power and never hesitant to use force to impose his supremacy. It seemed as though his heir had finally learned that dominance could be asserted only through ruthlessness.

He smiled, chest swelling with paternal pride. "Elijah, my son. No other man in this room is more worthy of a prize. As the king of Sparta, I award to you this woman. Do to her as you wish."

-o-

A/N

1. First off, thank you to everyone who read the first chapter! I am very grateful for the support that you gave me. If you have an account here, please log in before reviewing. I try to visit the profile pages of my reviewers to read their stories too. :)

2. I have noticed that many Klaroline stories here get updated very frequently, and I apologize if a weekly update is the best I can manage. I'm currently on an exchange student program and it is very draining.

3. So there isn't really a love at first sight scene here for Klaroline, as I preferred to adopt the TV series canon where Klaus knew of Tyler's pretty little girlfriend but did not care for her until he saw her remarkable inner strength. I think it's more meaningful than simply being smitten by Caroline's physically appearance.

4. Is Kol in love with Caroline? I'm still thinking about it. What do you think?

Again, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed this. :)


	3. Alere Flammam

**Chapter Two**

Alere Flammam: _To Feed the Flame_

* * *

To say that the ride back to the Greek encampment was awkward is an understatement.

In front of Klaus rode King Mikael, still zealously engaged in a livid monologue about what failures his two youngest sons were. To Klaus' left, Elijah rode with a deadpan expression, his strong arms firmly holding up the reins of his steed to secure his newly-awarded prize. To his right, Kol rode sullenly, like a child who had been stripped of his toy.

_Then again,_ Klaus thought,_ isn't that exactly what happened?_

Arriving at the encampment, the prince headed straight for his tent. Given an irate father, a suddenly self-indulgent older brother and a brooding younger brother, solitude was his companion of choice.

"Brother."

He turned to see Elijah before him, face stoic as ever but his brown eyes betraying turmoil within.

"I need to ask of you a favor."

-o-

Caroline sat still inside the canvas her captors had lodged her into, dumbfounded by her surroundings. Given the Spartans' ruthless reputation in war, she had not expected to be settled into… well, this.

All around her were lavish draperies, plush cushions and exquisitely carved furnishings. The bed she sat on was large enough to accommodate three people, the floor almost entirely covered by rich fur rugs, and at the far end of the tent was what appeared to be an ivory bath.

She shook her head vigorously in an effort to snap herself out of the astonishment. Admiring the enemy's encampment was the last thing she needed to be doing – instead, she willed herself to focus on trying to find a way to escape.

The blonde stood up and limped towards a far corner of the room where she concealed herself behind a row of thick, intricately draped fabrics. She surmised that she could create a distraction by making the Spartans think that she had somehow escaped; that ought to create at least some disorder. Meanwhile, she would wait in the tent until nightfall, when it would be dark and much easier to flee.

As she stood there quietly, Caroline recalled the names she had heard during her capture and realized why they were vaguely familiar. Elena had mentioned them before, during the few times when she told Caroline of her life in Sparta. Elijah was the name of the man Elena was betrothed to before she ran away with Damon, and was it not the name of the man she was awarded to? Kol must have been the prince who had captured her first; Elena said he was brash and wanton. The third man, Klaus…

Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard someone enter the tent.

She held her breath as the footsteps approached, her heart pounding faster by the second. Between the dim sounds made by sandaled feet meeting with the woolen rug, she could hear the intruder muttering soft curses as he went around the room, presumably in search of her. The sounds grew louder as they drew nearer and Caroline froze altogether when she felt the figure walk in front of the draperies where she hid.

Desperate seconds passed. The Trojan squeezed her eyes shut, praying to Apollo for deliverance–

A hand suddenly gripped her arm and yanked her out of her hiding place, eliciting a cry of pain from Caroline as she stumbled across the floor on her injured foot.

Niklaus paused, momentarily taken aback when the woman he dragged from behind the draperies fell onto the floor. Her pale hands rushed to nurse her ankle, and the fair-haired prince swore at himself inwardly for completely forgetting that Elijah's prize had hurt her foot in some way at the temple.

Really, he should be handling his brother's property more carefully.

He sighed wearily as he lifted the girl into his arms and carried her back to the bed before she could protest. His eyes trailed at her as he laid her down the bed, and he noted that despite the glaringly obvious pain of her injury, she still had the tenacity to try to appear incensed.

"Hell." Klaus muttered guiltily under his breath as he reached for a cotton cloth on the table near the bed. After soaking it in warm water from one of the earthen jugs close by, the Spartan proceeded to get down on a knee, and his captive was startled when he began gingerly soothing her foot with the tepid compress in a wordlessly apologetic effort to ease her pain.

He felt her shiver where her supple skin met his lithe fingers, sending an oddly contrasting chill up to his hands. A slight frown formed on his face as she tried to draw her foot back – stubborn girl - yet he held it firmly with controlled strength, mindful to avoid hurting her again.

"I apologize for the inhospitality, love." He spoke. "But really, don't try to pull tricks like that again."

The reprimand earned him a scowl.

"Don't pout, love, it's not going to get you anywhere." Niklaus continued, doing his best to be patient. "If it's any consolation, you are in the best place you could be. I don't know what Elijah will do with you once he gets Elena back, but I am certain that he will at least ensure that you're provided for, unlike Kol who throws his toys away after he's done with them."

Blue eyes widened indignantly at the Spartan's implication. "How dare you-" Caroline uttered before she could stop herself.

Klaus paused his ministrations to look up at her in amusement. "So you speak after all."

"Only to damn your crudeness. How can you speak of such things?" she said, her cheeks flushing red in resentment. "You have no right to objectify me like some sort of twisted entertainment for you Greeks."

"Look around you, love. You are in my brother's tent because he asked for you, and to him you were given. You are his entertainment." Klaus informed her calmly.

"I am in this tent because you and your people have no respect for the temple of a god. I am not a toy, not a concubine, and the lot of you Greeks can all drown in centaur piss." Caroline replied heatedly.

The Spartan hardly took offense. "You are neither a concubine nor a toy, I'll give you that. Elijah has not wed, thanks to your pilfering prince, and clearly he sees you as more than a plaything or he would not have asked me to look after you while he speaks to the king about tomorrow's march to Troy."

"March to Troy..."

"Yes, love. Tomorrow we will wage war on Troy."

Silence hung heavily in the air. Caroline wanted to tell him that the Greeks would never succeed, that the gates would not fall for her brothers would protect it, that the gods would not allow Troy to be taken – but she seemed to choke on the words even before she could say them.

Klaus watched the blonde struggle to keep her staunch expression, when in her eyes there was nothing written but fear.

Something tugged at his chest.

This girl in front of him knew nothing about the cruelties of war that he had grown callously used to. She was young, innocent and beautiful, and in a perfect world she would have had a promising future – but all that was to change because he was here.

In a few days, the kind world she knew would be torn apart. She would lose herself in the horror of death and destruction, drown in her own tears as the Greeks spilled the blood of her countrymen and razed her home to the ground. The harshness of war, delivered by Klaus' own hands, would take away everything she ever held dear until she became but a hollow shell, existing but never truly living. Hell, her death began today when his so-called moral brother seized her from the sanctuary of her god's temple because he wanted her to warm his bed.

And all this for what purpose? None. She was merely collateral damage.

Klaus hated himself at that moment.

"What is your name?" he found himself asking her softly.

Caroline looked reluctantly at her captor. She knew better than to tell him her name... yet there was something in his blue eyes that told her to trust him, no matter how wrong it seemed.

"Caroline." she answered just as quietly. "My name is Caroline."

Klaus stood up, bringing his face as close as he dared to hers before whispering in her ear. "Listen to me, Caroline of Troy. Your days as a priestess are over. You belong to my brother now, and it would serve you best to please him. But trust me, love, your life is far from over, and there is still so much that you can make out of it after my brother lets you go."

Sparks ran up Caroline's spine as she felt Klaus' heated breath. Was this really the fate that awaited her? Was she raised by the King of Troy and protected by his sons only to be taken by a man who scorned her brother?

She inhaled deeply before slowly turning to the fair-haired Spartan.

Klaus was surprised to feel her lips brush against his jaw. He suddenly found himself holding still while the newfound proximity allowed him to take in the intoxicating scent that clung to her supple skin - she smelled of lavender and lilac and sunshine and sea, sending something dark and deep and feral roaring furiously in his chest. A thousand thoughts swam in his head, none of them coherent.

The prince was lost in a blazing flurry that consumed his mind until he felt the Trojan girl mouth three words softly against his skin.

"Go to hell."

-o-

"Did you find her?"

Damon's face turned pallid in anger and worry as Alaric shook his head. After Matt brought Elena and Bonnie back to the city and said that Caroline had been left behind in the temple with an injury, the demigod himself rode forth to try to save her, but there was not a single living soul in Apollo's temple when he and his men arrived.

Distraught, Stefan paced the room restlessly. "Matt said he left her there - where could she be then?"

"Perhaps captured. The gods forbid, dead. Only the Fates know." Alaric said grimly.

"She is not dead." a voice interrupted.

A woman entered the royal chamber, raven-haired and olive-skinned, with russet eyes that though dark in shade were piercing as a Trojan sword. Her face was stern with certainty that could have only been ethereal in origin. The priestess whom Apollo had gifted of prophecy, Bonnie.

"She is alive – barely safe, but alive." Bonnie said. "Yet there are more pressing matters at hand."

Stefan was enraged. "There is nothing more important than finding my sister! Tell me where Caroline is. If the Greeks lay a single finger on her, I swear -"

"Calm yourself, Stefan. We cannot allow our emotions overwhelm us." Alaric pleaded, holding the Trojan prince back. "What is it that you deem more pressing a matter than Caroline, priestess?"

Bonnie looked at the men solemnly. "The Greeks will push to the city tomorrow. You must prepare, for blood will flow like water from a stream in the days to come, and a man from your ranks will make his way to the Elysium if you do not protect him."

Strained silence followed the priestess' words, and Damon looked at Stefan tensely. Troy had many brave warriors, but only few were of the royal rank, even if they counted Elena's younger brother Jeremy and the Roman prince Tyler and his legatus Matt.

The man foretold to die could easily be one of the brothers.

-o-

Caroline awoke with an inexplicable feeling twisting in her chest. She could not remember when she had fallen asleep or what had happened to Klaus, who was the last person she remembered seeing, but somehow, in her mind it barely mattered. As she sat up languidly, her eyes made out a masculine form seated on the divan opposite the bed.

The man stood up and walked towards Caroline when he saw that she was awake. He sat on the edge of the bed, barely inches from her, and smiled at her kindly as his brown eyes met her blue orbs.

"Hello, Caroline. I am Elijah of Sparta."

Caroline held his gaze as she nodded slowly. Here was the man who had asked his father to give her to him for the taking, but vaguely she wondered why she felt not even an ounce of fear for him, even when he raised his hand to touch her. It was as if she completely accepted that her fate had been forged, and resistance was futile.

She felt his warm hand slowly trail from her neck, his fingers soon running through her hair. Caroline remained seated quietly, and when his hand stopped, the Spartan gently removed the emerald clasp nestled in her locks, holding it briefly in his hands as if to cherish it before he showed it to her.

"Where is it from?" Elijah asked her softly.

She knew that lying was of no use. "Elena gave it to me when she arrived at Troy."

"You met her then?"

"Yes."

"How is she?"

"Well. Troy is happy to have her."

"Did she tell you anything about Sparta?"

Caroline cast her eyes down. "Only that she is sorry to have hurt… you."

"I see." Elijah said. He smiled at her faintly, but the blonde could see the hurt in his eyes. "When I first received Damon as a guest in my home, he told me that he had a sister. He said that she had blue eyes and fair hair, and that he loved her dearly."

"Is it that why I am here?" Caroline asked. "Is taking me your revenge against my brother?"

The prince shook his head, his eyes softening. "Please understand. If I had not asked for you in the guise of keeping you as a prize, he would have had Niklaus kill you. I could never bring myself to take a woman against her will."

"Then help me escape." Caroline pleaded, pulling at the sleeve of Elijah's robe. "Klaus said that you will march to Troy tomorrow. I have to be with my brothers. I have to be with my people."

Elijah's expression was pained. "I am deeply sorry, but I cannot let you go."

Caroline's head snapped up, dread written all over her face. "Why?"

The prince looked away guiltily. "A thousand men are with me here, fathers and brothers and sons, all of them willing to lose their lives to a cause not even theirs. I do not wish for innocent blood to spilled on my behalf – I only want to have back the woman I love. Tomorrow I will put forward a proposition to Damon: your life for Elena's."

A gasp escaped the Trojan princess's lips.

"I am sorry that I have to resort to using you." Elijah continued, filled with remorse. "I swear to the gods that wish you no harm, and that is why I did not reveal to my family who you really are. They think you are a priestess of Apollo, as Kol found you in the temple. "

"I do not care what they think. Don't do this to my brother." Caroline implored. "I know that he caused you pain, but he did it only because he truly loves Elena, and Elena loves him as well. Take me in her stead. I pledge to you my life – I will do anything you ask of me."

Elijah gazed at her sadly, lightly guiding her hand away from his sleeve. "I am sorry Caroline. If my heart could feel for anyone other than Elena, I would not be here bringing suffering to the innocent. But I need her, and this is what I must do to get her back."


	4. Re Infecta

**Chapter Three**

Re Infecta: _The Business Being Unfinished_

* * *

"Where is Elijah?"

Klaus glanced at the empty chair from across the table as King Mikael settled into his seat at the head of the banquet. The first meal on the day of declaration of war was ceremonial to the Spartan royal family, and as with all ceremonial procedures, the privilege of being last to arrive belonged only to the king. The fair-haired prince could sense his father's annoyance at Elijah's belatedness, and he wisely kept his silence.

"Perhaps he is too spent from last night to join us this morning." Kol said haughtily, the distinctive impish grin plastered on his face again.

Finn sent his youngest brother a sharp glare. "Your manners, Kol."

The prince rolled his eyes. "They're fine, brother. I'm not the one who's late, am I?"

"There is no need for gloating, Kol."

Elijah of Sparta entered the quarters, and in a move that left his father and brothers evidently surprised, he had by his side his prize of war.

She was dressed splendidly in a mauve-colored chiton - surely among the garments brought in anticipation of Elena's return - the gracefully flowing fabric going in stark contrast with the robust metal armor that Elijah was clad in. Wheat blonde tresses now fell freely to her shoulders, and the butterfly clasp that she wore during her capture found its way once again to crown her head.

Klaus noted how Elijah's hand rested protectively...almost possessively...at the small of Caroline's back. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat as his brother motioned for one of the soldiers to bring another chair to the table so the Trojan could sit by his side.

"Must you bring your playthings around, Elijah?" King Mikael asked, his eyes boring condescendingly into Caroline.

"The victor simply takes pride in his trophy, father." the prince replied calmly. "I thought that this morning was a suitable time to make it known that I have claimed her Caroline of Sparta, and I intend to make her my second wife."

Finn and Klaus' heads flicked at their older brother's direction simultaneously. Kol merely smirked.

"Caroline, my father." Elijah said, gesturing at the king. "King Mikael of Sparta."

Caroline eyed Elijah reluctantly but did not give deference to the king. Klaus observed that she looked no more comfortable with Elijah than she had been around Kol, but she seemed to take a more submissive stance before her new captor. Vaguely he wondered what happened to the spitfire who told him to go to hell merely a day before. Then again, was it any wonder if Elijah had _broken her_ when he _broke into her_ last night.

The thought made him cast his eyes on the floor.

"And these," the heir of Sparta continued "are my brothers. I believe you've met Niklaus and Kol. This is Finn. When we return to Sparta, you shall meet his wife Sage."

Kol grinned at Caroline, apparently already over the fact that she was awarded to Elijah though Kol captured her first. "Pleasure to see you again, Caroline. It seems that you impressed my brother thoroughly last night, seeing as he grew so fond of you."

"Kol!" Finn warned.

Caroline's cheeks were tinged with a red blush, and Klaus cursed under his breath.

Knowing that there was nothing he could do about his youngest brother's puckish nature, Elijah simply smiled obligingly. "I ask of you all to treat her like you would treat anything that you know is dear to me."

"This was not what I expected when I handed her to you," The king grunted, making no attempt to mask his displeasure. "But if this is what you desire, then so be it. Now let us commence with the meal - in honor of Pallas Athena, the goddess of wisdom, warfare and strength, whose hand will guide our swords as we smite the Trojans."

"To Pallas Athena!" The brothers said together.

As Elijah took bread and fruit from the foods presented at the table and filled with them Caroline's plate, Finn turned to Klaus discreetly. "Our brother has lost his mind."

"Tell me about it." Klaus huffed bitterly as he watched Elijah coax Caroline to eat. "So much for his laments about Elena."

"What puzzles me is where all this is coming from. Elijah has strived to be moral all his life; now all of a sudden he throws everything away and takes a priestess as his concubine?" Finn said with concern.

Klaus narrowed his eyes as he took a drink of wine from his cup.

There was definitely something amiss.

-o-

When the meal ended, Mikael instructed his sons to prepare to ride forth. The war against Troy was finally to begin.

Klaus glanced at Elijah from across the table, meaning to affirm his support for his brother, for whose cause the battle was being fought. However, his eyes never met Elijah's as his brother's sight was already fixated on someone else.

The heir of Sparta was looking at his prize with guilt clearly written in his dark brown eyes. He slowly took her hands into his, holding them gently before leaning in and mouthing silent words against her hair. But whatever the prince said did not seem to bring respite to the Trojan because she turned away from Elijah, and suddenly Klaus found himself holding her gaze.

Even from his distance, he could see that in her eyes blazed the same fire that she showed him yesterday, the same anger and defiance that burned a flicker of fearless red in the midst of the apprehensive blue. Refusing to face Elijah, she kept his eyes at Klaus, and instantly he was brought back to the electrifying memory of her soft lips brushing against his jaw before she whispered words acrid enough to sear his skin.

A lump formed on Klaus' throat, and for a moment, he had to remember how to breathe.

He slowly looked away.

-o-

When Damon of Troy opened his eyes, he found himself in the middle of an anarchic battlefield.

Everywhere he turned, he saw nothing but violence and ruthlessness, heard nothing but agony and pain. Gasps and moans of anguish and exhaustion whispered to the Trojan soil, barely audible in the midst of the shouts and screams accompanied the distinctive sound of clashing weapons. Blood continued to spatter and seep and surge from the bodies around him, both from those that still move and those that no longer did. Squelching, slashing and ripping sounds were launched into the arid air as swords and spears buried themselves in human flesh.

War was a harsh mistress.

For a split second, the prince saw the metallic flash of a sword aimed at his head; he froze, for an inexplicable reason unable to move.

_Was it truly happening, the war of Troy?_ He thought helplessly.

A loud clanging sound hailing from a sword meeting with a shield snapped Damon out of his daze. It was Tyler, the Roman, fending off the assaulting Greek warrior with his shield to protect Damon's life.

"What are you doing?" Tyler roared at him.

Damon swallowed. Instinctively, he pulled at the reigns of his steed, and the next second he was slashing at his assailant with his own sword. The attack culminated in a mortally wounded Greek falling from his warhorse.

"This is no time for your mind to wander, Damon." Tyler said, felling another enemy as he addressed the man that he hoped would become his brother-in-law someday.

"Gratitude, but aren't you supposed to be at Pergamos?" Damon asked.

"Matt sent out word about what happened to Caroline… I could not sit still for even three seconds knowing that she is not safe." Tyler replied worriedly. "I cannot command the Roman army to fight for your side, but I have brought my own men who are ready to follow me to whatever end."

Damon nodded as he fought off more soldiers, grateful to know that there was a man who loved his sister to the extent of abandoning his royal duties in the wake of her capture. If only Caroline was safe with Elena back in the city…

Tyler charged forward while Damon stayed on, growling violently as he slew through the seemingly unending horde of Greeks that surged his way. As splattered blood met with the beads of sweat that rained down his forehead, the thought of his sister alone occupied his mind. He had failed Caroline once; he couldn't fail her again.

His vision cleared as he felled the last soldier who came at his way. Amidst the hazy mirage that accompanied the scorching heat of the sun, the raven-haired Trojan prince suddenly found himself face to face with the man from whom he stole his wife.

It was Elijah of Sparta himself.

Blue Trojan eyes met with brown Spartan orbs. A cry of wrath rose from Damon's throat as he attacked Elijah furiously, and swords met between the two men powered with equal fury.

"You dare assault me, thief?" Elijah bellowed, his voice dripping with venom.

"Elena. Chose. Me." the defiant answer came between gritted teeth as Damon held his own against the mighty Greek warrior. "If anyone stole anything, it is you who stole my sister!"

"Did I? Caroline looked exquisite sprawled in my bed last night."

"No!" Damon roared, sweeping his sword down with force so strong that the Greek had to grip his weapon with both hands.

"Listen to me, Damon of Troy." Elijah said impatiently. "You should be grateful that unlike you, I do not take advantage of women, even when they share the blood of the man I loathe the most. I have your sister and I am willing to give her back, safe and unharmed, under one condition."

Elijah suddenly drew his sword back, and Damon's lips parted in surprise both at his retraction and at his words.

"I am offering you a proposition, one that may spare the lives of all the innocent from the cruelty of this war. Caroline's life for Elena's. Give me back my bride and you shall have your sister."

Damon's head pounded as the words he heard wreaked havoc in his mind. Had the loss of his bride driven the Spartan to insanity? What kind of man could sacrifice his wife for his sister, or his sister for his wife? He loved Caroline and Elena equally in different capacities and could not let harm fall upon either!

"I will give you three days to decide. If you choose to keep Elena, I swear that the next time you see your sister, you will be burning her funeral pyre. I endeavor to uphold morality but the blood that flows in my veins is still that of a Spartan, and I will not hesitate to end Caroline's life if you force my hand to do it."

-o-

Klaus rode on the treacherous Trojan terrain, weaving through the ranks of the enemy like a bloodthirsty angel of death garnishing his sacred path with the bodies of the sacrilegious fallen. He had lost count of how many men he had sent to Hades thus far – in a warrior's raw mind, human instinct barely registered and numbers never mattered.

One stopped from killing when there was none left to slay.

He looked onto the battlefield, searching for more blood to spill as if his armor was not yet painted with enough of the crimson liquid. From the corner of his eye, he saw a glimpse of his brother Kol evenly battling a hefty, fair-haired man clad in claret habiliment.

Klaus' brow creased. The Greek colour was green, the Trojan blue… who was this man?

Kol heaved a vicious kick at the soldier which sent the man tumbling down. Gaining the upper hand of the clash, the youngest Spartan prince was poised to make his kill, until a sable-haired warrior donning a similar claret raiment came to his commrade's rescue. The other warrior attacked Kol forcefully with his sword, the sheer intensity sending the Spartan prince lurching out of balance even as he struggled to hang on. A bare fist followed in a flash, landing at Kol's chin with a sickening crunch as Kol fell to the ground, his sword strewn a few feet away.

Klaus wasted no time rushing to aid his brother. He dismounted from his horse instantaneously, swinging his sword at the sable-haired warrior as he barked at Kol to take his steed and ride to safety. The man held his own against the Spartan, and swords locked against each other the same way their ferocity-filled eyes did.

"Make yourself known, warrior!" Klaus bid.

"I am Tyler, Prince of Rome." came the gruff reply.

The Spartan narrowed his eyes. "Rome? We have no dispute with your country."

"You do not." Tyler affirmed, tightening his grip at his sword. "But I am not here as the prince of my country. I am here as a man who will defend the home of his future wife."

Klaus swept his sword down at Tyler again, the clanging sound reverberating throughout the battlefield as the Roman he fended off his assailant's weapon with his own sword. "I cannot do anything about this then. If you fight for the Trojans, then you are my enemy."

Tyler growled, pulling his sword back only to heave a more powerful blow; Klaus read his opponent's mind ably and moved to strike as well. Both men attacked at the same time, but at a most crucial moment a ray of Apollo's sunlight found its way to Klaus' vision, the flash blinding him momentarily.

_That wretched patron of the Trojans -_

He heard a baleful slicing sound, after which he felt a sharp, piercing sensation in his skin. He looked down to see blood flowing freely from a large gash in his arm.

Tyler's jaw slacked, seemingly unable to believe what he had just done.

Pain from the wound only fueled the violent rage that ran the Spartan prince's mind. How dare this man spill royal Spartan blood? He lunged at Tyler, swinging at him with violent frenzy, every strained muscle in his body wanting nothing but the sight of his sword impaled in the Roman's chest. Tyler was rocked by the abrupt furor that possessed his enemy and struggled to defend himself from the unflagging assault.

It stopped only when Klaus found himself being held back by his brother Finn.

The older prince restrained his fair-haired brother, his eyes filling with concern upon the sight of the wound that marred Klaus' arm. "The battle is ceased, Niklaus. It is a truce for now."

Breathing heavily, Klaus looked back at Tyler, whose wolverine eyes were still trained at the Spartan prince though he had lowered his weapon in respect to the truce.

Blood from Klaus' wound continued to drip, marking large, red circles in the flaxen Trojan soil. He gritted his teeth, knowing that even if he crossed the lines of savagery by violating a declared truce, it was only a matter of time before the loss of blood weakened him. He clenched his sword as he let his sensibility get the better of his pride, deciding finally to leave with his brother.

But not before uttering an ominous parting message.

"Mark my words, Tyler of Rome. This is far from over."

-o-

A/N:

1. May I just say this. I can't thank you guys enough for continuing to support this story even if it means having to put up with my lousy updating habits. Oh, if I could hand out French macaroons for each and every one of you! :) Also, a special shout out to my guest reviewers. I can't reply to your reviews because of your anonymous nature, but please know that I appreciate all the kind words.

2. More Klaroline interaction was asked, and to you it shall be given in the next chapter. Indeed, why do guys get injured? :)

Have a great week, everyone!


	5. Inter Spem et Metum

**Chapter Four**

Inter Spem et Metum: _Between Hope and Fear_

* * *

Inside his tent at the Greek encampment, Klaus struggled to preserve the void expression on his face as the medicus tended to his arm. Sutures had been required – five of them – to ensure that he did not bleed to his death from the laceration that Tyler of Rome inflicted, and the soreness that he felt was close to unbearable.

The only thing worse for him was the fact that Tyler left the battle unscathed.

"Has Father seen this?" Elijah asked, wincing as he watched the healer pull on the last suture to close his brother's wound.

Kol nodded guiltily. "And the dear old man promptly chewed him out for allowing himself to be aggrieved this early. Forgive me for bringing this upon you, Niklaus."

"Strike it from your mind, Kol." Klaus drawled. "A day or two and I shall be well, and that Roman prick will pay his due."

The medicus raised an incredulous brow as he wrapped cloth bandages around Klaus' arm. He dared not say anything, but it was blatantly obvious that such an injury would take more than 'a day or two' to heal. By his reckoning, three weeks was nearer to the correct figure.

The brothers' discussion was cut short when a soldier entered the encampment. Elijah frowned at arrival of the unexpected company – did he not instruct the guards outside not to let anyone in?

The soldier swallowed uneasily. "I apologize for the interruption, my lord, but…"

His words trailed as Caroline was brought into the tent, secured by two other soldiers who handled her as carefully as they could whilst ensuring that she would not get away. The immaculate chiton she wore that morning was now soiled with dust and dirt, the strands of her tousled hair falling in all the places where they shouldn't. If one did not know any better he would have thought that the girl went to war herself.

"Your prize, Sir… she attempted to escape while you were at battle… wielded a bow from your weaponry and shot three soldiers…"

Kol's eyes widened. He glanced at his eldest brother's direction, only to become more alarmed; Elijah was seething with anger, and each labored breath he took in the painstaking effort to compose himself only seemed to push him nearer and nearer to his breaking point. The youngest prince of Sparta moved to lead Caroline out of the tent himself before the gods forbid his brother snapped, but it was too late.

"You!" Elijah roared furiously. Failing to summon enough patience to temper his emotions, he grabbed Caroline by the shoulders and shook her with force like that of a man possessed. "Why must you defy me like this?"

Caroline hissed as she struggled to break free of the crown prince's forceful grasp, but the sound ended up a whimper as Elijah's hands dug harder onto her shoulders. Brown eyes cut into blue with a look of sheer wrath that melted the fortitude she clung to into weakness. For the first time in her capture, she felt true fear.

Kol took an effort to intervene in behalf of the Trojan, whom he felt partly responsible for, but Elijah's thundering words cut him off before he could even begin his plea.

"I saved you from the suffering of captive prison, took you into my tent, clothed you, fed you, and all I asked in return was for you to stay here! Why can't you - "

"Elijah." Klaus broke off hesitantly.

Kol's head flicked back to Klaus, stunned at the later's sudden interruption but grateful for it nonetheless. He held his tongue, hoping that Klaus would – could - reason with Elijah, yet no other words followed. For his part Klaus was not even certain what he wanted to say.

Rigid shoulders slacked as Elijah stopped, his brother's voice allowing him a moment of clarity amidst his blind rage. Immense guilt gnawed at his chest when he looked down at Caroline and saw terror plain on her ashen face. The man who swore to himself not to make Caroline suffer for his brother's sins was sickened to realize that it was exactly what he was doing.

His arms were shaking as he let his prize go.

"Forgive me, Caroline, I…"

Elijah never finished the statement. Pain and remorse washed over his expression like blood and wine splashed on blank canvas before he bolted out of the tent, disappearing into the starless Trojan night. Kol cast a conflicted look at Klaus before rushing to follow Elijah outside.

The blonde slumped breathlessly on the floor, trembling in fear.

"Leave." Klaus stoically ordered the men. "All of you."

It was a command that neither the soldiers nor the healer needed to hear twice.

Klaus looked at Caroline reluctantly for a moment, incisive orbs searching for something in her eyes. Whatever it was, he never found it as the only thing he saw there was dread.

He rose from his seat and gently helped the girl up her feet. She had no sharp words for him this time; instead she clung willingly to the Spartan prince, welcoming the warmth that he provided against the chill of fear that lingered through her body. Even under the layers of clothing that separated his skin from hers, Klaus could feel her heart pounding uncontrollably in her chest, one with the inexplicably tense beating that he felt in his.

"Forgive my brother, love." Klaus repeated Elijah's words quietly as he settled her into a divan. "His emotions had the better of him."

She pressed her head closer against Klaus' chest, closer to the safety that he somehow made her feel. Caroline knew that she would regret the show of vulnerability later, but then and there, it was simply what she needed.

"He is supposed to be the moral one, isn't he?" she mouthed weakly.

"It is a mistake to define him by his morality." Klaus replied in all honesty. "Elijah is human. He feels, and he acts upon his feelings, sometimes even when wrong."

"I just…I just want to go home."

The fair-haired prince had to force the words out of his mouth. "Your home is where Elijah is."

"No. You don't understand."

"Love, I know my brother. He has never wanted anyone other than Elena. But he wants you, so if there is anything inside your head other than obstinacy you'd -"

"Why can't you see that he doesn't want me?" Caroline said exhaustedly. "His use for me is like that of a pawn – a tool that past a certain line would be discarded so he may obtain his queen. That's all there is to this war."

"Is that what you worry about?" Niklaus responded tartly, misunderstanding her words. "That my brother will leave you when he gets his bride back?"

Caroline did not answer. She closed her eyes, resigning the day, if not her entire fate, to the gods whom all her life she had been told to trust.

Klaus sat still as silence gripped the entire tent, broken only by the faint sound of Caroline's shallow breaths. He thoughtlessly lifted a hand to stroke her hair, his fingers smoothing the windswept river of gold that crowned her head. He held her for seconds or minutes or hours – he didn't know and cared even less – until he felt her breathing ease, the wild thumping in her chest reduced to calm, even beats.

When he finally laid her on his bed, she was sound asleep, and every vein in his body was throbbing.

-o-

The pounding sound of hammer meeting newly smoldered metal filled the air as Damon of Troy made his way to the royal forge. The workshop was the first place that Alaric went to after a battle, and indeed, it was where Damon found his brother-at-arms after the first day of the war against Greece.

"Forging another sword?" Damon spoke, leaning against an armoire. "You've made more weapons than the lame blacksmith your mother calls her husband."

"You have angered enough gods, Damon." Alaric said somberly, pausing from his work on the anvil. "It is not wise to add to the list of deities who want your ass scorched."

Damon rolled his eyes.

"You have something important to say, don't you?" Alaric said, sensing the unease that the Trojan heir tried to conceal beneath his untroubled facade.

The prince sighed in resignation, wondering how he could even think that he could ease Ric into small talk before he had to confront the subject that had made rest impossible for him that night. "Fine. I exchanged words with Elijah of Sparta today."

"I know." Alaric said silently. "I saw you."

"He says… he says that he has Caroline."

There were no words describe the agitated expression that Alaric's face twisted into.

"He says she is safe. But if I don't hand Elena over to him in the next three days, he will kill Caroline."

"What did Stefan say about this?" Alaric asked tensely.

Damon bit his lip.

"Flames of hell." The demigod uttered upon the prince's silence. "You haven't told Stefan, have you?"

"No. And you're not going to tell him or my father either." Damon warned him immediately. "I care about Elena and I care about Caroline, but for the other men in this family it's not even a choice. What if they tell me to return Elena to the Greeks?"

Alaric shot Damon an incredulous look. "You truly think that Stefan will force you to give up your wife for your sister."

"Stefan, not so much. But my father, yes." Damon answered without hesitation. "You know how much the man cares about Caroline, like he has two blonde children and then a dark-haired aberration that he has to tolerate because his wife would haul him over the coals all the way from the afterlife if he didn't. Have you forgotten how he wanted to kill me with his bare hands when I returned to Troy with Elena?"

Alaric could not disagree. The troubled relationship that Damon had with his father was no secret to anyone in Troy - Damon resented the constraints attendant to being the crown prince, and King Giuseppe hated him for choosing to be carefree rather than to bear responsibly the obligations that came with his birthright, as Stefan had successfully done whether willingly or unwillingly. There was not any doubt that if the King could contravene the Trojan laws of royal succession, the fair-haired prince would have been long declared the heir of Troy.

The demigod sighed, understanding where his royal kin stood. "What do you want me to do?"

A daring flash glinted in Damon's piercing blue eyes.

"I have a plan, but I will need your assistance."

-o-

Morning came sooner than Klaus wanted.

The prince sat in front of the alder table in his tent, arm propped on the wooden surface as he removed the cloth bindings wrapped around his wound. Sleep had been scarce the past night - he had taken to the divan because he had given Caroline his own bed, but worse than the discomfort to his body was the discomfort to his mind. Morpheus barely let him rest, drowning him in visions of gold and cerulean until sunrise finally came.

Lost in his thoughts, he failed to notice that his guest had awaken until she stood in front of him, her eyes widening slightly as she noticed his wound for the first time.

"Your arm." Caroline spoke quietly. "Who…"

Klaus looked up at the Trojan. The pink was back in her cheeks and her blue eyes were no longer clouded with fear. Were it not for the disheveled hair and soiled clothes, he would not have recognized her as the frail girl he held last night.

Good. Elijah couldn't have his… _mistress_… sulking in another man's bed all day, could he?

"A prince from Rome, love, apparently fighting for his Trojan bride." He finally obliged her.

_Tyler. _The blonde thought longingly.

"You know him." Klaus said tightly, not missing the reflective look in her eyes.

Caroline pretended not to hear his words and settled into a seat beside Klaus. She poised her hands above his arm, looking at him from lowered lashes. "Let me…"

If Klaus had been surprised by her actions, he did not show it. He simply drew his hand back, and she considered the silent gesture as his permission for her to go on. With utmost care, she took the bandages and finished unwinding them from his arm herself. She did not even flinch when she saw the sutured laceration; briefly she wondered what the Spartan might say if she told him that Damon had gone home from battles with wounds far worse.

Had Bonnie been there, Caroline was certain that she would have launch into an oration on how Caroline always tried to find the good in each person and how sometimes it was a foolish thing to do - Caroline had an inkling that this was one of such times. But was it wrong to want to return the kindness he extended to her last night, if not out of chaste gratitude then to at least expunge the feeling of indebtedness that she harbored for the brother of the man who was using her to torment her own brother?

She sighed as she took fresh bandages and began to wrap them around his arm.

"Thank you… for last night. And I'm really sorry you had to sleep in the divan." She told him timidly.

The Spartan gave her a single wordless nod.

"It doesn't look very good." She said, referring to his arm. "Maybe three weeks or so, and then you can go back to… sieging my country and all the other vile reasons you're here for."

Klaus did not help his lips from curving into an amused smile. This girl, really - helping the enemy but not passing on the opportunity to insult him.

Despite her acerbic words, she continued the almost impeccable way she tended to his arm. He noted the way her hands were brisk yet still lithe and careful, the bindings not too loose or tight. She obviously knew what she was doing.

"I am under the impression that you've done this before?" Klaus asked.

Caroline nodded, affording him a small smile at the memory that her answer stirred. "My brothers have gone to many battles, came home with twice as many injuries."

"I see. How endearing of your brothers to seek remedy from the temple of Apollo instead of the medicus."

"What?"

"And your marksmanship, love, it was excellent. Do the priestesses of Apollo teach archery as well?"

Caroline froze, catching his meaning. The air between them suddenly becoming electric; Klaus kept his eyes sternly on the blonde, waiting for her answer.

The silence was suddenly broken when the canvas entrance was lifted open. Elijah of Sparta entered the tent, stopping halfway at the sight of Caroline tending to Klaus' wounds.

His face tightened when he saw the dark marks in her shoulders, where his fingers dug onto last night. Caroline dropped her hands and clenched them in her lap, meeting Elijah's gaze uncertainly.

"Brother." Klaus said, voice low with caution. His arm instinctively spanned on the table in front of Caroline without him even noticing.

"Niklaus." Elijah curtly replied, turning to Klaus. "A word."

Klaus glanced at Caroline imperiously, as if daring her to try to escape again, before rising from his seat and following his brother outside the tent.

"What have you to tell me, brother?" Klaus began, squinting slightly at the heat of the morning sun.

"Logan, the son of King Tobias of the Corsica, is dead." Elijah said. His voice was flat but Klaus felt the hint of anxiety hidden beneath the passiveness his brother portrayed. "I spoke to the soldiers this morning. He was among the men whom Caroline shot."

Klaus frowned. "And I should care because?"

"Because the oracle of Delphi prophesized that the first Greek to land on Trojan soil shall be the first to die, the same way she foretold that you will not return to Sparta if you went to this war."

"You forget that the oracle of Calchis also foretold that I shall die early. I am here in front of you alive, am I not?"

"The oracle of Delphi is not the oracle of Calchis. Sit the war out, brother. Do it for my sake."

"If I am to do anything for your sake, Elijah, it shall be fighting in this war, not running from it." Klaus said, shaking his head. "Do not try to 'save' me from my fate like how you tried to deter the prophecy that the Corsican brat made himself bear. You forbade him to fight, and still he met his death. The only thing you accomplished was denying him an honorable death in battle as a warrior."

Elijah laughed bitterly. "Honor? There is nothing honorable about this war, Niklaus. I, you, all these men that we dragged here – we fight neither for freedom nor for belief, not even for the good of our people. Do you realize that we are spilling innocent blood for a single woman? Yes, she is the woman I love, but all this for one single woman nonetheless."

"If you so think that, then why are we here?" Klaus asked openly. "And Caroline. Tell me, Elijah, why is she here? We have gone to a hundred battles together and you have never taken a prize. Suddenly you ask father for this woman, a priestess who knows of archery and medicine and even the fucking Prince of Rome."

The crown prince averted his brother's questioning gaze.

Klaus' eyes hardened. "There is something going on, Elijah. And you will tell me what it is or I will slit the throat of your precious Caroline myself."

-o-

A/N:

1. First off, dear readers, I am terribly sorry for the hiatus. The boyfriend surprised me with a visit and was here for two weeks, during which I was able to accomplish nothing but was very happy nonetheless. :) He's flown back to Dallas now so weekly updates should be here again.

2. Thank you for the generous support you extended last chapter! You guys just blow me away. Every time I go to my profile page I feel like dancing on top of a pool table or something. It fuels me to go on with this as well as a few other ideas I that I have in mind.

3. To the lovely guest who asked if there might be a chance of M-rated chapters, the answer is yes. I guess I have to take a chance with this story being deleted, but I am seeing to it that the scenes are tastefully done even if it takes a month to edit because crassly written smut annoys me so.

I hope everyone had a great back-to-school week. See you again soon. :)


	6. Rex Regnat, Rex Cadit

**Chapter Five**

Rex Regnat, Rex Cadit: _The King Reigns, The King Falls_

* * *

"There is something going on, Elijah. And you will tell me what it is or I will slit the throat of your precious Caroline myself."

Elijah's eyes landed back at Klaus. However, his response was nothing like what the later anticipated.

"I do not need to explain my actions to a warrior." the Spartan heir declared, stolid voice laced with uncharacteristic condescension.

Color drained from Klaus' face as he grappled for patience amidst surprise and frustration. True, Elijah's patrimony as the crown prince of Sparta was superior and warranted deference from his own brothers, who insofar as Spartan law was concerned were none more than warriors whose ranks were politically elevated because they came from the king's lineage. It never mattered before because Elijah was not one to vaunt his birthright, but now...

"Forgive the trespass, _my lord_." Niklaus replied coldly, biting out the last words.

A strained expression swept Elijah's features at the frigid apology. His eyes softened, and he ran a weary hand down his face before turning back to Klaus. "I do not know why I said such words, brother. I did not mean them. I'm sorry."

Klaus saw the same guilt-laden man that his brother melted into last night after hurting Caroline. He felt Elijah's compunction, but he could not shake off the feeling that there was still something wrong about the entire situation.

"It was not my place to threaten your prize." He settled to answer.

"As it was not my place to lay a hand on her last night." Elijah said, letting out a drawn breath. "This war… I have not been myself of late."

_There's an honest statement, _Klaus thought almost scornfully.

"Which is why I wish to ask of you to look after her for the time being."

Brows furrowed in confusion at the words heard. "You want me to look after Caroline." Klaus repeated, himself uncertain whether his reiteration was a statement or a question.

"I cannot trust myself to be around her – not while I fall apart like this." Elijah answered, something akin to anguish swimming to the surface of his dark brown eyes. "Perhaps it is the war taking its toll... perhaps this is who I truly am...who knows? I just want her to be safe while the dust settles, and I see that she trusts you."

The younger prince looked at Elijah reluctantly, not knowing what to make of his request.

"Three days is all I ask, brother. Tend to her while I am at battle and your wound heals. In that time my mind would have cleared and I shall... be a better liege to Caroline." Elijah said. There was nothing in his voice that hinted conviction.

Klaus gave up. "Fine then. I will see after Caroline while you think things through."

"Gratitude, brother." Elijah said, smiling faintly. "Will you allow me a few minutes to speak to Caroline before I leave for battle?"

The younger Spartan nodded and watched Elijah disappear into the tent. He narrowed his eyes, mindful of the fact that after everything that Elijah had said, he never did answer the subject that Klaus brought up in the first place – why he asked their father for Caroline.

_No matter,_ he thought to himself. He had three days to find out.

"Niklaus, my favorite brother! You are just the person I wanted to see."

Kol suddenly appeared beside Klaus, smug like his usual self, but his grin was reduced by a few molars when he saw his brother deep in thought.

Pushing his misgivings about Elijah away from his mind, Klaus turned to his younger brother with a raised brow. "I would have delighted in the flattery, Kol, if it were not for the fact that your 'favorite brother' changes depending on who you need something from."

"Come on, Niklaus, you know that you're my favorite brother." Kol replied, grinning again. "Neither Elijah nor Finn will ever equal your antagonism towards anything that breathes."

Klaus had to subdue a chuckle. "What do you want, Kol?"

"I am aware that Elijah has told you to forgo battle while your wound heals, so I thought that _perhapsIcouldborrowyourarmor _."

"My armor."

"Yes, you know, the one that Mother had taken to Lemnos to be blessed by Hephaestus himself."

"You have your own armor, whatever do you need mine for?"

"To begin with, the fact that it was blessed by the blacksmith god himself? You've never let me borrow it under the pathetic but inarguable excuse that you wear it when you fight. Well, you aren't fighting today so unless you have another excuse, I'm borrowing it."

"Who said I need an excuse to refuse you my armor?" Klaus grunted.

"Oh, I don't know. Decency?" the younger prince attempted chirpily.

Klaus sighed, knowing that arguing with Kol in such a situation was futile. "Fine. I will give it to you later."

"You will?" Kol uttered, unable to believe that Klaus was not dragging the argument out.

"I will, Kol, if it is the only way I can get you to stop pestering me."

"Can't you possibly give it to me now?"

The fair-haired prince gestured at his tent. "If you want it now, you can get it yourself. Elijah is inside speaking with Caroline. Whatever happens to you, my hands are clean."

Kol would have rolled his eyes had he been less occupied gaping.

Caroline was still inside the tent. That only meant that she never left in the first place.

-o-

If Damon of Troy was to be given the chance, he would relinquish his royal position without second thought. For a man who wanted nothing but to live a free, simple life with the woman he loved, being a crown prince was burdensome. There were always lives to look after, responsibilities to bear, ideals to uphold and wars to fight.

Such as the one that he was currently in.

He could smell the metallic scent of death all throughout the battlefield, and as he swept his sword and severed a limb from another faceless, nameless enemy soldier, he wondered if the sordid scent clung to him when he came home to his sweet, sweet wife.

From the corner of his eye, he spied Elijah of Sparta battling soldiers from the Trojan regimen in the west. He quickly reined his horse to the other direction. No, Elijah should not see him.

Instead, he scanned his surroundings for any of the two familiar faces that he had been counting on to sight that day. The task proved to be difficult because from where his warhorse stood, each and every Greek appeared alike – suits of metal gray armor covered in blood.

He needed one of them... just one of them...

"I beg of you," Damon implored desperately to the gods in Olympus. "Do not screw me."

-o-

Caroline eased the back of her neck onto the lip of the bath, continuing to allow her tired body to bask in the cool comfort of the pristine waters. From the other side of the lithe fabrics draped to shield her from sight, she could hear the faint sound of charcoal meeting papyrus sheets, a subtle but constant reminder that she was not alone.

Her body told her to rest, but her mind could not push away the anxiety from her dialogue with Elijah before he left that morning. After asking for her forgiveness, he told her about the proposition he brought forth to Damon and how he was entrusting her to Klaus until the exchange if only to ensure that he did not hurt her again.

She tried to plead with Elijah, but the latter's resolve was firm.

"_I pray to the gods for you to one day forgive me, but there is nothing you could say that will change my mind."_

"_And if Damon decides to keep Elena?"_

"_Pray, little one, that we do not have to find out."_

Caroline shuddered, equally fearing and hating the predicament she found herself in. The war suddenly seemed immaterial as she realized that fates hinged not in the battle but on the bargain that Elijah laid out.

The only way to save her brother and herself was to escape.

She flexed her injured foot, cringing at the memory of her unsuccessful attempt to flee the day before. How does one run for freedom when she can barely run at all?

"That's quite enough for a soak, love." Klaus called out. Caroline instinctively sunk herself lower in the bath at the sound of his voice. "You've been lounging in the bath for a good two hours. Don't make me drag you out of there."

Caroline scowled, but the threat of being manhandled by another Spartan was not one that she wished to confront in her current state of undress. She sighed as she relented, carefully rising from the bath and wrapping herself in the linen fabrics that the kinder facet of Elijah's dissociative identities had generously provided together with the bath before he went to battle.

The Trojan did not even glance at Klaus when she stepped out of the drapes and made her way to his bed, but she could feel his eyes staring at her with a burning intensity that almost tore through the white chiton robe she wore. Klaus took in the sight of Caroline without any regard for propriety, keen eyes traveling shamelessly along the line of her thighs, the delicate swell of her breasts, the milky splash of her shoulders.

Her shoulders. Klaus frowned as he eyed the silken skin beneath her neck, the fair perfection stained by the horrid marks of Elijah's fingers; almost like a marble statue vandalized by boors.

She avoided his gaze as she sat on the edge of the bed. Three days, Elijah had said. _Three days to find a way to escape_, she thought.

"How do you know the prince of Rome?" The fair-haired Spartan spoke abruptly.

She blinked. "…the prince of Rome?"

"Yes. Tyler. And don't even bother trying to tell me that you don't."

Caroline felt her throat parch. Should she tell him about who she was altogether, ask him to help her escape? Klaus had shown her kindness last night, perhaps he would do again so.

She glanced at the bandages in his arm and bit her lip. No, not after that.

"I was supposed to sanctify his union with his Trojan betrothed." she supplied, remembering how Tyler had referred to himself as a Roman fighting for the Trojans because of his Trojan bride. "But I obviously can't do that since your brother is keeping me here, can I?"

"You can't sanctify anything, love." Klaus pointed out. "Need I remind you that my brother has taken your virtue? For a woman who was forced unto his bed, you seem to have forgotten that quite easily."

The blonde swallowed.

"Of course, what right have I to ask a woman about her relations with my brother. Apologies for my lack of manners. Will you indulge me with recounting how you acquired such fine skills in archery instead?"

"I don't know why you're suddenly asking those questions." Caroline said, attempting to lead the conversation astray.

Klaus would have none of it. He narrowed his eyes grimly, clear blue turning into a perilous shade of saxe.

"Who are you and why is Elijah keeping you here?"

Silence took over the entire tent, the air becoming too thick for breathing.

Caroline shook her head helplessly. "What difference does it make? If I tell you that I am not who you think I am and that your brother has other reasons for keeping me here, would you no longer fight in the war for him?"

"Elijah is your brother. That reason alone is enough for you to stand by him whatever he does." Caroline continued when Klaus kept his silence, sincere and patient as she was certain. "I do not blame you for it, as you should not blame me for standing by my brothers whatever they do."

Klaus' jaw tightened. "And these brothers of yours…"

Caroline's lips curled into a small, bitter smile. At the end of the day, she and Klaus were none more than siblings who cared for their brothers, and she understood him. She simply hoped that whatever she had to do to be there for her brothers, he would understand as well.

Right now, what she had to do was to lie.

"I am Caroline of Troy. I am the daughter of a Trojan warrior who taught me of bows and arrows before I was presented to the temple of Apollo on my thirteenth year to become a priestess. Your brother - he never forced himself on me. I gave myself to him."

For the rest of the day, Niklaus took to charcoal and papyrus, his expression blank like uncut alabaster as he struggled to ignore the piercing sensation that stabbed on his chest.

-o-

"Ric!"

A flash of hope flared in Damon's eyes as he sighted a familiar Greek armor worn by a warrior battling Trojan soldiers from a distance nearby. He knew the panoply well – it was famed throughout Greece for having been blessed by Hephaesthus himself - but he did not expect its owner to be in the battlefield that day. Tyler had wounded Klaus when they last met, but if Klaus had chosen to fight despite his fresh injury, then this was to Damon's advantage.

He quickly called out to Alaric, who rode swiftly to his side after disposing of an enemy soldier. Damon motioned at Klaus, pointing him out to the demigod.

"For the last time, are you certain that you don't want to tell Stefan about this?" Alaric asked.

Damon needed not answer; the affirmative reply was written all over his tight face.

Without another word, Alaric headed off to Klaus' direction. Damon reined his own horse to circle the field, bound for the same end.

-o-

Finn of Sparta released the string of his bow, sending what may have been his fiftieth arrow straight into the forehead of another Trojan soldier. It took a brief moment for the weapon to bore itself into flesh with a sickening squelch, and soon the unfortunate soldier fell to the ground lifeless.

The secondary heir to the throne reached into the gilded quiver he carried on his back, wanting for another arrow, but felt with his fingers that but one remained. He pulled on the reins of his horse , deciding to retreat temporarily and head for the weaponry wagon that the army kept at the back of its lines. Even the most proficient archer was nothing without arrows.

"Finn!" A voice thundered, calling him from behind.

Finn turned his horse around and saw his king father riding his midnight black steed, impatience swirling in the man's deep cobalt eyes.

"Where is Elijah?" King Mikael demanded. "Tell him to go to the eastern lines immediately. We cannot let the Trojan army push us back!"

Knowing that not even his need for arrows would be an acceptable excuse to deny the king's order, Finn nodded and abandoned his intent to ride for the weaponry wagon. Instead, he led his horse onto the high ground and surveyed the battlefield for his elder brother.

His eyes had barely swept the landscape beneath when he came across a sight that made him reel.

On an expanse below, a fair distance from the mass of blue and green clad-soldiers battling each other for the kingdoms symbolized by the coats of arms in their breastplates, his youngest brother Kol was fighting two Trojan soldiers. Both men attacked him relentlessly, and while Kol tried to defend himself against his assailants, it was evident that he could not hold his ground against two opponents.

"Father!" Finn immediately cried.

Mikael rushed to his Finn's direction, barely in time to see one of the Trojan warriors sweep his sword at the legs of Kol's warhorse. The stallion squealed in pain as it collapsed, throwing Kol helplessly on the ground. Amidst the gust of dirt and dust, Finn could see the other Trojan warrior dismount from his own steed, advancing to Kol's direction. A third Trojan appeared, shouting something incoherent at the first two.

The Spartan prince immediately reached for the last arrow in his quiver and aimed at the warrior approaching his brother. Kol was still down on the ground, grimacing in pain as he clutched his conceivably broken leg.

Finn fired.

The arrow grazed the Trojan's arm, drawing blood as it opened a shallow cut, but it landed harmlessly on the sands behind the men. The Trojan triad all turned to the direction from which the arrow came from, spotting Finn and King Mikael. Their response was immediate: the warrior who had dismounted from his horse scrambled to drag Kol towards his companion, trying to heave the wounded Spartan prince onto his companion's horse.

Finn swallowed coarsely, his head flicking to his father's direction. No words needed to be said - King Mikael's bow was already seeking the Trojans, orbs of smoldered silver burning from behind the arch. One second he aimed, and the next second he fired.

For a brief moment, time stood still. Both Spartans and Trojans were frozen in their places.

A heartbeat later, a Trojan warrior fell from his horse, an arrow buried in his neck.


	7. Ruat Caelum

Note: THANK YOU to everyone who's supported ORF throughout its hiatus, especially **bittersweetnothing**, (formerly hann9) who expressed willingness to _bribe_ me into updating again, causing me many a chuckle. :)

-o-

**Chapter Six**

Ruat Caelum: _Let the Heavens Fall_

* * *

The Grecian sky is a living canvas of perpetuity that takes on whatever hues the twin gods of Olympus desire to paint it with. In the morning Apollo splashes warm tinctures of red and orange and yellow to herald the ascension of the sun, and when the king of they day has settled into his throne he tempers the heavens with the cool calmness of azure. Artemis comes for the night rendering various shades of dark blue, at times wisped with violet and indigo, always dotted by the adoring glow of her eternally loyal stars.

That night, however, the Grecian sky was deathly black.

Caroline of Troy opened her eyes. The full moon was hidden behind a row of bleak nighttime clouds, lending the land below none of its radiance, but the faint light from the lone lit candle on the table in the far end of the tent allowed her to take in the sight of her surroundings.

She was alone in bed, the emerald clasp that Elena gave her laying atop the small table by her bedside. To her left, the wooden bracket that should have held the tent's weapons stood devoid of any armament, a state that Elijah had ensured before he left in the firm resolution that he would not lose any more of his men in the hands of his captive concubine. On the divan to her right was the sole weapon in the entire tent – a royal sword of Sparta, secure inside a gilded sheath beside the prince who owned it.

Klaus.

The Spartan warrior laid asleep in the cushioned fixture, his eyes closed and his chest rising and falling in a shallow but even rhythm that was almost inaudible amidst the silence that seized the encampment. Even in slumber, his face had an intimidating look of watchfulness that made Caroline want to shut her eyes and pretend that she never awoke in the first place. She would have done exactly that were it not for the fire inside her which burned strongly for home, emboldening the Trojan to hang on to her senses.

Now was her chance to escape.

She strove to keep her breathing calm and quiet despite the frenzied thumping in her chest. If she could slip out of the Greek encampment and hide in the thick clump of tamarisk and olive trees that lined the Trojan shore, she could make her way back to the city by mid-noon the next day. She only had to ascertain that Klaus would not awake; if he did, he would drag her back to captivity and all would be lost.

But how could she get out? She could not leave the tent from its entrance – lifting the heavy canvas open might awake Klaus. Cutting through the tent's tough material to create an opening in which she could slip through was another option, but doing so required no less than a sword, and attempting to take the Spartan's blade was downright foolish.

How could she escape without waking him up?

Caroline's eyes wandered the encampment until they finally rest on the bejeweled hair ornament on the bedside table. Her lips parted and her heart raced even faster as the thoughts slowly dawned upon her.

Of course. If the obstacle was Klaus waking up, the answer was to ensure that he would not awake.

And awake he would not if he were dead.

The Trojan princess slowly reached for the emerald clasp, clutching it tight in her trembling hands. One stab in the chest with the clasp's pointed wing should be more than enough to end Klaus' life and give her the chance to flee.

Careful not to make a sound, Caroline rose from the bed and gingerly made her way towards her sleeping captor. Everything depended on this – her life depended on this.

She stood in front of Klaus and raised the jeweled clasp.

-o-

"_Virum et virtutum omnium acerba cinis, quae nunc et nostro letum miserabile rex attulit."_

The hymn of the priestesses of Apollo resounded throughout the great hall of the royal palace, yet to Stefan of Troy it seemed too faint and distant. The fair-haired prince kept his bloodshot eyes on the floor for he could not bear to raise his head and see again the lifeless body that laid in the sanctorium.

"_Ei misero frater adempte mihi, ei misero fratri iucundum lumen ademptum."_

The king of Troy was dead, shot in the neck by an arrow fired from the bow of the king of Sparta. His last words, Alaric said, were a warning to the son that he supposedly held in disdain. _A Spartan archer rides forth, Damon! Retreat now!_

"_Tecum una tota est nostra sepulta domus, omnia tecum una perierunt gaudia nostra." _

Stefan clenched his fists. All that his father wanted was to have Caroline safe back in Troy; now Giuseppe was dead and the daughter he so loved was still in the hands of the vile Greeks. Hatred filled his chest to the brim – he hated the Greeks for coming to Troy, he hated Damon for bringing the Greeks to Troy, and most of all, he hated himself for failing his father, his sister and his country.

"_Quae tuus in vita dulcis alebat amor."_

"Forgive me for my forwardness, my lord." a voice spoke, low and quiet, as a man suddenly stood beside the Trojan prince. "I know that the king is barely cold, but I must speak to you regarding exigent matters."

Stefan looked up and met the intent eyes of one of the king's most trusted men. Gabriel, patriarch of the house of Young, was not merely a general in the Trojan army; he was counsel to the king's table and friend to Giuseppe himself.

"Speak." Stefan permitted.

"Your father's body is to be burned in the pyre of Apollo upon midnight, and tomorrow Damon will ascend to the throne of Troy." Gabriel said. "The members of the king's council have met and discussed this most alarming event. We are united in the stand that the council cannot pledge allegiance to Damon."

"_Advenio has miseras, rex, ad inferias, ut te postremo donarem munere mortis."_

"Forgive me for speaking ill of the man whose blood you share. But your brother brought this war upon us when he abducted Elena, hence the blood of your father as well as every other Trojan lost in this war is in his hands. Your father knew that Damon cares not for Troy nor for its people and the king abhorred him for it. We cannot let a man like Damon be given rule of Troy - his selfishness will be the end of our city."

"_Et mutam nequiquam alloquerer cinerem."_

Stefan's eyes narrowed grimly. "What are you saying, Gabriel?"

"The council finds it imperative that you, Stefan, and not Damon should become king."

"You do know that I can only ascend to the throne if Damon is dead." Stefan said coldly.

"You do know that of two evils, the lesser is always to be chosen." Gabriel replied.

Stefan turned back to the sanctorium, where his father's lifeless body laid.

"And what will happen to my brother's wife if he dies?"

"That is for you to decide, my King."

-o-

"Kol? Are you alright?"

Kol of Sparta raised his head, and from inside the cell that held the Spartan prince imprisoned in the Trojan dungeons he saw the one woman whom he had come to abhor in proportions so immense that her so-called heavenly beauty bore no charms for him any longer.

"Well, well, well." Kol said, willing himself to put on his trademark smirk despite the pain of his broken leg. "If it isn't the whore that launched a thousand ships."

Hurt was evident in Elena's eyes, but she pretended not to hear the insult her former supposed-brother-in-law spat. "I brought you food..."

"Don't bother with the mask of kindness, Elena. Elijah is good and moral and all that so he keeps on telling himself that you're the victim in all of this. But I know better. You're neither good nor kind - you're a selfish bitch who thinks that the world should revolve around her."

"I won't take it against you if you hate me for what I did, but - "

"Contrary to what you think, my dear little wench, I don't give a damn about what you do." Kol cut off impatiently. "What do you want Elena? You know better than trying to charm your way with me, don't you?"

"Kol -"

"But then again, isn't that what you do best? Snagging men with your beauty and pretensions of compassion to get what you want and then discarding them to run off with the next man who lays his eyes on you?"

The wife to the heir of Troy looked at Kol desperately. "I will bear every word of hatred that you speak to me. The gods know that I deserve them. But please, I just want to know how Caroline has been. Please tell me that she is safe."

Kol paused. Knowing the reason behind it was unnecessary; knowing that Elena cared about Elijah's concubine was all he needed.

He mocked an undecided expression. "I'm not too certain about 'safe', but she has to be pretty sore by now. Let's see; the other night she was with Elijah, and she must have done a fantastic job because he literally couldn't get his hands off her the next morning. Oh, have I told you that he has taken her as a concubine? Because yeah, he did. And then last night she was with Klaus. Seems that he had fun with her too - I have honestly never seen my brother look more sated. Now I won't count on Finn asking for a turn to fuck her, but maybe Father -"

The Spartan prince then pressed his palm against his forehead, as if to remember something. "Ooops, terribly sorry about that, I completely forgot that you wanted me to tell you that your priestess friend is safe. Well, as long as Elijah still enjoys having her suck his cock, then I don't think he'll order her execution. I suppose I could say that Caroline is indeed safe. Are you happy now?"

Elena stepped back, suddenly feeling faint, hear breaths heavy and uneven.

"What's the matter, Elena? Jealous that Elijah has taken another woman to his bed? You just expect every man in this world to worship the ground you walk on, don't you?"

The brunette did not reply. _No, no, no_, she kept on telling herself. Elijah would not force himself on a woman, and he would never allow his brothers to take advantage of Caroline... or would he?

Amidst the throbbing in both her head and her chest, she willed herself to focus on that one word that Kol uttered.

Priestess. He called Caroline a priestess.

Without saying another word, she left the dungeon to find Damon.

-o-

Caroline sunk unto the ground soundlessly, but the emerald clasp slipped from her hand and fell with a fateful clattering sound.

She couldn't do it. It was the one thing she needed to do to step closer towards freedom, towards home, but for a reason as inexplicable as the height of the heavens and the depths of the sea, she couldn't do it.

Tears blurring her sight, she looked away as Klaus jolted awake.

-o-

His eyes snapped open the moment the jeweled clasp hit the ground. Not another second later he had risen from the divan, hand on the grip of his sword, prepared to draw the weapon had an enemy found its way into his tent.

His chest constricted when he beheld the sight before him.

She was slumped on the ground, the flowing fabric of her white chiton sprawled softly around her like the waves of the sea adoring Aphrodite as they carried her to shore upon her birth. The gray clouds parted to let the moon bathe her with its silver luster, the radiant glow lending her skin a near-porcelain appearance, while her golden hair fell loose upon her round shoulders. She was breathing heavily, soft breasts heaving with every labored inhalation of air that the tent seemed suddenly bereft of.

He felt it. He felt that same ancient, ferine storm that roared in his chest when he first held her proximity. Only this time, its intensity was almost unbearable.

He let his sword go and took a step towards her, getting down on a knee to grasp her chin forcibly and compel her to look at him. Her watered blue eyes were burning with anger, hatred and regret; all for herself, and all for him.

He lost control.

His lips crashed unto hers, hard and forceful and selfish, a searing motion that set off a savage rupture of heat rushing throughout his body. He felt her heart race against his chest, thumping a desperate, violent rhythm that betrayed the fear which washed over her, but he couldn't bring himself to care because he was too intoxicated by her sweet, sweet taste.

She opened her mouth to protest but it was a mistake.

His tongue slid into her hot, wet mouth while his hand found its way to the back of her neck to pull her closer to him and draw her deeper into the kiss. Her eyes widened upon the unexpected invasion and the cry of protest faded into a small, hoarse, whimper in her throat. She felt the heat of his lips and the urgency of his kiss and the strength of his hold, all of them making her head spin.

His tongue conquered every inch of her and claimed her for his own. She balled her fists tightly, gripping at the hem of her untainted chiton in the desperate effort to stay unresponsive while he plundered her. He was smothering her – no, drowning her – and it was rousing a dreadful, feverish craving that only he could sate.

When he finally pulled away, both of them were gasping for air.

"Klaus..." she whimpered weakly.

He fixed his gaze unto her, summoning every ounce of control left in his smoldering body.

"I don't care if my brother owns you." he declared, bringing his face possessively close to hers, so that his cool forehead rested on her own sweltered, sweat-dampened one. Her hands, still clutching at her chiton, now trembled. Their breaths were still strained and rugged.

"I want this. Tell me you want this." he demanded, hungry and greedy and forceful and selfish as ever.

She said nothing, but she raised her head ever so slightly so that their lips almost touched again. She could feel his warm breath trickling against her skin even as she held her air in, sending electric sparks dancing along her spine.

"Caroline." he growled. There was a hint of threat in his voice but fear was the last thing on her mind right then. Her body was burning... burning for him.

"Tell me you want this. Tell me you want this, dammit, or I will -"

He never finished his statement because she plunged headfirst into temptation and brought her lips back unto his again, starting another blazing kiss.

She couldn't hold back anymore – she wanted this, whatever 'this' was.

He said none more and promptly kissed her back, satisfied with her unspoken but all too unmistakable answer. She belonged to his brother but he wanted her and she gave herself to him; he was going to make sure that she never regretted it.

Her arms entwined around his neck as he gathered her into his grasp and carried her to his bed.

He kissed her more insistently now that she was responding to him. His hands fumbled their way to the back of her garment, trying as hastily as he could to undo the intricately woven ribbons which kept the article of clothing tight around her body, but when impatience took the better of him he proceeded to all but rip the dress apart by its seams. A wicked smile was carved unto his features as he watched the fabric fall loose down her arms.

"Hell." He muttered, taking in her bare exquisiteness for the first time.

He surged forward, pressing himself on top of her inch by fucking inch until her back hit the bed. She closed her eyes in pleasured submission as he nuzzled the base of her neck, his lips hovering just above her pulse point, traveling lower and lower…

She felt like drowning in a sea of molten lava. He erased every other memory in her mind and filled it with thoughts of him and him alone – his hands, his lips, his scent. Nothing had ever made her feel like this… _not even Tyler._

She groaned, a sickening wave of remorse suddenly filling her.

What was she doing? Tyler had forgone the safety Rome, risking his life in the war though he held no stake in it, and he was doing it all for her. And Damon and Stefan, her brothers! And her father, dear old father. And Alaric and Elena and Bonnie… all of them were out there, holding on for Troy, and here she was letting herself go _because of a kiss_.

She was stronger than this. She was better than this.

"Klaus..." she uttered his name breathlessly.

He looked up at her, his blue eyes still fiery with lust, insatiable.

She swallowed as she tried to convince herself to forget the pleasure he gave her. "E-Elijah has not …taken me."

"I didn't think so, love." he said, his lips curling into a ghost of a smile before dipping his head lower to continue his ministrations. I didn't matter if Elijah had taken her or not; he was going to take her tonight.

_Stop him, he has to stop, this has to stop -_

"Klaus...I'm not a priestess. I'm... I'm Damon's sister."

He froze. He raised his head and met her eyes again, but this time his face had twisted into a tumultuous expression of warring anger and confusion.

"What did you say?" he bit out.

Her vision was blurred with tears as she forced herself to tell him the truth. "I'm Damon's sister… Elijah asked for me because… because he wanted to bargain my life for Elena's."

He gritted his teeth. Now it all made sense. Why Elijah asked for her but did not claim her in his bed, why she knew how to tend to the wounds of war, why her eyes softened when he told her about the Roman prince who fought him.

His own brother had lied to him. He almost laid with the sister of his enemy -

He rolled off her and off the bed, not even bothering to care if his rough, abrupt action hurt her. She clutched his sheets and held them close, trying to help herself from sobbing, but she failed.

"Go." he said, his voice now cold and filled only with rage at being betrayed.

She looked at him, tears trickling from her eyes, clear and inviolate and pure like the first vein of the first stream which Demeter allowed to flow back to life in the spring. Even the anger he felt – at Damon, at her, at Elijah, he no longer knew – could not keep him from thinking her to be beautiful, from wanting to touch her, from wanting to taste her, from wanting to take her.

"I said go!" He roared, fists clenched. "Before I take you like a rutting animal!"

More tears spilled from her eyes. But she did as he said, donning her ripped chiton as best as she could before sliding off the bed and running out of the tent.

-o-

Caroline ran as fast as her injured foot could let her, the Trojan princess braving the frightening darkness of the cold night in the Greek encampment. The sobs had not left her and she had no idea where to go; for a moment she considered seeking shelter in Elijah's tent, but she stopped when she saw a wooden fence a small distance away from the campfire at the encampment's south ground.

Tied to the fence was a large, robust horse.

She paused to wipe her tears with her hands before going on and running towards the horse. It moved back in cautious apprehension when she approached, but she looked down to avoid its taciturn eyes and soothed it with whispers. She had learned from the best; Stefan himself taught her how to ride. The stallion eventually allowed her to touch its head and she let it sniff her quivering hand before she stroked the russet animal's neck to calm it further, an effort that she hoped would calm her shaken self as well.

The blonde proceeded to undo the ropes which secured the horse to the fence. Taking the steed's reins, she braced herself before putting her injured foot up the iron-stirrup, muffling a sharp cry of pain as she pushed off from the other foot and mounted the horse. As soon as she lowered herself on its saddle, she wasted no more time and kicked with her heel, willing the animal to run.

The galloping sound alerted a handful of Greek guards as the horse darted past them. When Caroline looked back one of the soldiers had raised his bow and aimed at her direction. She gripped the reins tighter, kicking the horse again to spur it to run faster.

"Don't shoot!" Another guard barked at his comrade, grabbing at the latter's hand to let go before the arrow could be released.

"We cannot let her escape –"

"The stallion is the warhorse of Prince Niklaus! The gods forbid your arrow kills the animal, or you will join the horse in death! Quick, get the other stallions and wake the other soldiers…"

With Artemis smiling at her from the vast expanse of the darkened heavens, Caroline rode forth into the Trojan night.

-o-

A/N:

1. So last weekend Lulu informed me that Only Red Flames was nominated for Best Debut Fic and I'm up for Most Creative Author in the Klaroline awards which I had no idea was happening because... wait for it - I have no tumblr. (FAIL.)

Seriously guys... THANK YOU. I've been writing for just 4 months and I'm not on tumblr (yet) but there are people who still nominated and voted for me despite my lack of advertisement. I can't bring myself to ask for more votes because your nominations alone already make me feel so loved and that's more than enough for me. :') I ask you though to support my lovelies **k-laus**, **maevelin**, **clangwee** and **l****uludancing**. Oh and **prettypinklips **too. I don't know her but I love her works.

2. I have probably lost all readership for this fic because of the looong hiatus and I have no one to blame but myself haha. Erm, is anyone still reading this or should I focus on Solstice since more people seem to enjoy that fic right now?


	8. Inde Irae

**Chapter Seven**

Inde Irae: _Hence These Resentments_

* * *

Aurum est potestas, a well known adage in Rome dictates. _Gold is power._

In the land of the wolf-kin, a gold coin can buy a slave, a pouch of gold can buy a herd of sheep for the slave to round, and a bar of gold can buy a hundred acres of pasture where the herd of sheep that the slave tends to can graze. In Greece it is no different. Whether it be in Athens, Sparta or Troy, gold can buy land, livelihood and even life.

Tyler of Rome squinted faintly under the glow of the moonlight as he continued to ride forth towards the Greek encampment. At any other instance there would have been at least five soldiers in his company, sworn to the protection of the heir to the throne of Rome, but that night the prince was alone. He was making his way towards the enemy's camp with only himself, his trusted steed and thirty bars of gold.

The gold was supposed to be gifted to the King of Pergamos upon the successful negotiation of the economic treaty that Tyler was facilitating in behalf of his father, but the news of Caroline's capture made him forget about everything and he headed off to Troy as soon as he could. Needless to say, the treaty fell apart and now Tyler had in his hands thirty bars of gold, which he was determined to use to ransom Caroline from the Greeks.

He knew that leaving Pergamos in the first place was already a disobedience to his father, and what he was about to do – buying Caroline's freedom with gold that belonged to the Roman people and not to him – would only add to his offenses against the empire of Rome, but he simply didn't care and he simply couldn't sit there and wait any longer. The king of Troy was dead, and as his father had always told Tyler when he was younger, the collapse of a kingdom begins with the death of the king.

He wanted to believe that the Trojans would eventually win the war, but it was a risk that he was not willing to take. Mikael of Sparta was cunning as he was powerful, whereas Damon, the new King of Troy… Tyler did not wish to speak ill of Caroline's brother, but the fact that the Trojans were at war with the Greeks because Damon so brazenly took Elena from the man she was spoken for certainly wasn't heartening.

If he wanted to save the woman he loved, then Tyler had to do something, no matter how far fetched the idea was.

Thirty bars of gold. Back in Rome, it could build one hundred warships, buy the services of one thousand warriors, feed an army of ten thousand men.

And if the King of Sparta was as shrewd as they said he was, then he would know that gold had more value in war than a princess of Troy.

-o-

"Niklaus!"

Elijah's voice was filled with apprehension as he hurriedly entered his brother's canvas in the Greek camp. Soldiers had interrupted his sleep to relay news of Caroline's escape, and immediately the heir to the throne of Sparta set out for his brother's quarters. Klaus wouldn't have let his Trojan captive go freely, so if Caroline escaped then she must have incapacitated him somehow. The gods forbid she harmed Niklaus or hell–

Elijah halted in his tracks, stunned at the sight that greeted him.

On the bed sat the third prince of Sparta, alive and unhurt, breathing heavily as he clenched his fists so tightly on his lap that his hands had turned into a pallid ashen color. A violent rush of anger surged into every single vein in Elijah's form before he could control himself and in an instant, the worry that he felt for his brother was replaced with cold-blooded wrath.

"You let her go?" Elijah roared lividly. "I asked you to mind Caroline and you let her go?"

Klaus' head flicked towards his brother's direction, fury ablaze in his own blue eyes. "Don't you fucking dare –"

"Enough!" Elijah cut off, trembling with rage so intense that it reduced his brother to silence despite Klaus' own outrage. His face twisted into a demonic expression, one of that whose soul was gripped entirely by darkness if not madness.

"Get yourself a bloody horse. She mounted Achilles and is making her way back to the city. I don't care if your arm bleeds a fucking river– you will ride with my men and bring my wife back even if you have to shoot your warhorse dead. No one will rest until she is returned to me, do you understand?"

The younger Spartan balled his fists even tighter. He didn't care about anything anymore – not about the war, not about Caroline and most certainly not about Elijah, who could shove his goddamned orders back into his lying mouth for all Klaus cared - but Achilles was a different matter.

The horse had been with him since he first bore Sparta's flag in war, the most constant and steadfast companion that Klaus ever had in the battlefield. Achilles had allowed no other man to take his reins before, but if Caroline had somehow managed to mount him then Klaus was certain that Elijah would not hesitate to kill the horse if only to get Caroline back. The only death that the brave stallion deserved was an honorable fall in battle, not a pointless end brought by a man's deceit of his own brother; no, Klaus could not let that happen.

Elijah's voice bellowed like thunder descent from Zeus himself. "Do you understand?"

Without another word, Klaus rose from the bed and left the tent.

-o-

"What's the matter?"

Tyler placed a reassuring hand by the side of his horse's neck as the animal paused from its canter. Its ears moved alertly, perceiving an unfamiliar sound that its master's human hearing had not yet sensed. The prince of Rome immediately scanned the horizon, knowing that whatever caused his horse to be alarmed could also bring him danger.

The first few miles gave him nothing other than seas of sands which stretched to the unseen distance of the shores of Troy. But suddenly, far out north, he saw something that made his heart pound uncontrollably.

It was an august stallion of dark bay color, powerfully built, easily eighteen hands high. The animal galloped with a dignity that only a royal warhorse had, swift but sturdy movements making it appear unassailable as it pressed its way towards the city of Troy. Its rider, however, was anything but a warrior – layers of light white chiton flew against the wind that the horse's speed defied, the same way wheat blonde tresses waved against the darkened hue of the nighttime sky.

Tyler's breath was caught in his throat, and he could only utter one world.

"CAROLINE!"

-o-

Caroline desperately spurred the horse to run faster, doing her best to hang on to the animal as though it were life itself. The last time she glanced behind her she could already see a cavalry of no less than a dozen Spartan soldiers hot on her trail; yet in front of her, the gates of Troy were still nowhere to be found. She was a long way from home, but she was determined to escape and the least she could do was to stay ahead of the enemy.

"_Caroline..."_

She thought she heard a faint voice in the wind calling out something that sounded like her name, but there was no time to stop and listen if it was real. Instead she closed her eyes, holding on tighter to the base of her mount's neck.

"_Caroline!"_

The voice sounded closer, louder, and this time she could unmistakably perceive a galloping sound that accompanied it. It sounded like… was she hallucinating?

"Caroline! Caroline!"

She opened her eyes. Amidst the dust of the disturbed sand, a providential image revealed itself to her, refusing to wane even as she blinked her doubt away, and Caroline then knew that it was real.

"Tyler!"

The prince of Rome was riding on towards her, his face filled with a sense of urgency as he rode to save the woman who held his heart.

Caroline kicked with her heel to impel the horse to run even faster. The horse allowed her command, but no sooner than it further hastened its already fleet pace, the Trojan princess heard the low but clear sound of a whistle.

The stallion she rode immediately stopped, almost throwing Caroline off its back when it reared and suddenly began galloping back to the direction of the Spartan camp.

"No, no!" Caroline cried desperately, pulling sharply at the horse's reins in an effort to make it halt and turn around. The steed flung its neck back every time the Trojan tugged on its reins, but it refused to follow. Caroline's heart thrashed even more violently in her chest when she saw that the Spartan cavalry was approaching and her horse was dead set on meeting them.

"Caroline!"

She glanced back and saw that Tyler was still following her. Should she…

In front of her, the Spartans drew near enough to let her recognize the formerly faceless soldiers. Foremost on the riding line was Elijah and behind him… Klaus.

Caroline swallowed as she decided to leave her fate to the gods. Squeezing her eyes shut, she let go of the horse's reins and jumped off the running animal.

She felt as if she was falling in slow motion. She could see all too clearly how Tyler's eyes widened in horror as she fell off her mount and how he kicked wildly at his own stallion to rush to her. She heard a fateful thud as she landed on the sand beneath her, feeling no pain as her frail body met with the fine flaxen grains even as their loose coarseness scrapped at her skin. She rolled over four or five times, conscious of each time a graze or bruise was made on her body, yet feeling utterly nothing. The moment she stopped moving, pain finally gripped her.

It took only a few more seconds for Tyler to finally reach her, but once he did the Roman prince immediately knelt down and cradled her sore body, soothing her with whispers as he held her close enough for Caroline to feel the frenzied beating in his chest.

"It's alright, Caroline," Tyler whispered, unable to help himself from pressing a light kiss unto his beloved's forehead. "I'm here."

"Tyler…" Caroline mouthed weakly. "Stefan and Damon… Father… how are…"

"Shhh. They're all safe. They're waiting for you to return to Troy." The Roman said, biting inside his cheeks to keep himself from shaking as he lied to his future queen. It was not the time to tell her that her Father had been killed by the Spartan king.

He gathered the Trojan princess in his arms and rose to run back to his horse. He had to take her back to the city as soon as possible – for both their sakes.

He had barely made it to three yards from his stallion when he heard a sound that made his blood run cold.

"Halt, Roman!"

-o-

Anger flared heatedly inside Klaus like the flames of Hephaestus when his eyes landed on the sight of the brazen Roman prince who had dared carve the fresh wound on his arm. And whether he admitted it or not, his anger swelled tenfold when he saw the grating bastard carrying Caroline. The Spartan came unto the realization that she was the future wife whom Tyler spoke of when they first fought, and for a reason that he refused to think further about, it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

The Roman warrior gingerly set Caroline unto her feet, his arm circling on her waist to support her as he drew his sword. The Spartan cavalry took position and surrounded him, their own swords drawn and waiting only for Elijah's command.

"I am Tyler, Prince of Rome. I come with no intent for confrontation," Tyler said, though he did not lower his sword.

Elijah narrowed his eyes. "Sparta is at peace with Rome, but you hold in your possession something that belongs to me. Return my wife of I will pry her from your hands and leave you with none."

Color drained from Tyler's face when he heard the Spartan heir refer to Caroline as his wife. He pulled the blonde closer to him, his calloused fingers running against the soft fabric of her garment and eventually unto her smooth skin. His mouth parted open in dread as he realized for the first time that the back of her chiton was ripped to the waist.

Tyler swallowed, forcing himself to face Elijah. "I have thirty bars of Roman gold on my horse. Take them, together with my pledge of loyalty and service to Sparta. Just let me take her back to Troy!"

Klaus' jaw tightened, but Elijah showed no reaction to the Roman's words at all.

"I have no need for gold nor men." Elijah replied stolidly. "I have need only for my wife."

The Roman and the Spartan stood each other down wordlessly, tension hanging thick in the air as both refused to heed the other's demand.

"Tyler." Caroline suddenly spoke.

Elijah, Klaus and Tyler all turned to her.

She breathed in deeply before giving the Roman prince a faint smile. They were surrounded, outnumbered. There was no way they could reach Troy now. Elijah would not have her slain because he still needed her, but Tyler…

"I'm alright, Tyler. Please let me go."

Tyler looked into her eyes, disbelief and defiance swimming to the ochre surface. "No!"

She placed a hand over his chest, eliciting a sharp draw of riled breath from Klaus before he could even stop himself. The fair-haired prince of Sparta kept his silence, yet the hands that held on to the reins of the warhorse he regained shook from the turmoil of everything pent up inside which he tried his damnedest to ignore if not to outright deny. Achilles could sense his master's unrest and the horse began to fidget.

"Tyler… you have let me go."

A pained expression washed over the Roman as he realized that there was nothing he could do to stop Caroline. Alone, he was helpless against the Spartans, but even with the most powerful army he was even more helpless against the pleas of the woman he loved.

"Tyler, please let me go." She said for the last time.

Tyler's hand slowly fell off her waist. Caroline summoned every ounce of courage and strength left in her weary body and walked towards Elijah, kneeling on the ground in front of his horse with her head bowed low.

"I offer myself to you." She said, voice trembling but blank. "I give you my loyalty and my life. I will never try to escape again and I will do everything you bid me to."

She raised her head, allowing both Elijah and Klaus to see the grim determination in her eyes. "You have me. Let Tyler go."

Elijah felt sick, almost unable to bear the guilt and the shame that he felt for making an innocent woman give up her life for a man she wanted to protect. He could let both of them go now, but he needed Elena and for her he needed Caroline.

"Do I have your word, Caroline?"

"You have my oath."

Elijah's eyes softened as he alighted from his own black stallion and slowly raised Caroline up her feet. Neither of them said anything as Elijah helped her up his horse and then mounted the steed himself once more.

Caroline gazed at Tyler, forcing a weak smile unto her lips as her eyes bade him a wordless goodbye. She turned away from him quickly, not wanting to see the first man who had told her he loved her suffering the pain of being unable to save her, only to meet Klaus' hardened gaze.

She eyed him uncertainly from lowered lashes before dropping her head to avoid his blue eyes. She didn't know what made her kiss him that night nor why she couldn't look at him now, but she could feel her own heart thumping uncontrollably. Perhaps it was from fear, from tension, from shame… must she know? It didn't matter now more than ever. She belonged to Elijah and he would bargain her for Elena soon enough.

"Stay with the Roman but do not harm him." Elijah commanded three of the soldiers. "Let him go at sunrise."

With that he reined his horse to travel back to the Greek camp.

Klaus stayed on, eyes hazed and mouth slightly ajar as he forced himself to comprehend what had just taken place.

Caroline… did she return the Roman's affections? Did she… dare he say it, _love him_ so much that she gave herself to Elijah to save him? What happened to them last night… did it mean nothing to her?

But why was he even thinking about those things in the first place? He shouldn't care who held the Trojan's affections. She was an enemy and that was why he drove her away in the first place. She _should_ mean nothing to him.

Klaus gripped Achilles' reins tighter as he decided then and there that he was going to leave Troy the very next morning. Everything in this wretched war would drive him mad – Caroline, Elijah and his deception, even the prophecy that he would die in battle. The only reason why he was there in the first place was because he wanted to fight for his brother, but as Elijah obviously had plans of his own then there was no longer anything that would keep Klaus invested in the godforsaken war.

He pulled on his stallion's reins, meaning to head back to camp to prepare for the voyage back to Sparta. But then he remembered something and turned back.

He pulled a royal dagger of Sparta from the gilded sheath that hung on his waist. With aquiline eyes and an aim known only for precision, he threw the dagger onto Tyler's direction. The Roman's terror-widened eyes were still trained on Caroline and Elijah's trail and he never saw the weapon until its razor-sharp head buried itself into the flesh of his arm.

The Roman drew back, a cry of pain escaping his lips as blood flowed from the wound made by the still-impaled dagger on his arm. He looked at Klaus, his eyes wild with too many emotions that it was difficult to recognize what any of them were.

Klaus merely stared coldly back at him, blue orbs saying everything that needed to be said.

_Now we're even._

-o-

"I'm sorry, Caroline."

In the sanctuary of his own tent, Elijah had no qualms about expressing contrition for the young Trojan woman who now sat on his bed, whose wounds he himself tended with a salve made by the Greek medicus.

"Speak none more, my lord." Was the stoic reply he was afforded.

He paused from running a lukewarm cloth over the faint bruises in Caroline's arm, his chest constricting at the impassiveness she now treated him with. "Call me Elijah, as you called me before."

"Speak none more, Elijah." Caroline repeated, no less stoic.

Guilt snagged at Elijah's throat, disabling him from answering. He tried to shake the feeling off, moving on to wipe the dusty remainders of sand on Caroline's neck. The sleeve of her chiton slipped from her shoulder; Elijah gently lifted the fabric back to its place, only to frown in alarm when he noticed that the back of her chiton had been ripped apart.

"Did Klaus…" he said, unable to finish the question. _Did Klaus force himself on you?_

She looked away from him, refusing to answer.

Elijah strove to calm himself as he stood up, taking from the bedside table the cup of sedative brew that he had asked the medicus to make. He handed it to Caroline, who eyed it wordlessly.

"You need to rest. It'll make you sleep."

"I need no rest."

"But I want you to."

She looked up at Elijah and took the cup from him, drinking the bitter concoction until there was none left. She had given herself to Elijah, told him that she would do everything he wanted her to as long as he kept his end of their agreement and let Tyler go.

Elijah helped her lay down on his bed, drawing his sheets up to her shoulders as he gently uttered a reminder. "You promised never to escape again."

Caroline replied with a brief nod before closing her eyes, having no desire to see any Spartan any longer. She had sworn her life and her loyalty to Sparta, but her heart would always remain for Troy.

Elijah sat on the edge of the bed, watching his Trojan captive slip into slumber. His eyes never left her, the same way only one thing occupied his mind.

Klaus.

-o-

"Where is your master?"

Niklaus of Sparta barged into the quarters of Kol's men with a patently irate expression painted all over his face. Upon returning to the Greek encampment, the third son of King Mikael went straight to his younger brother's tent to retrieve the armor he lent him, but he did not find Kol there.

The soldiers looked at each other nervously, none of them wanting to speak. _Does Prince Klaus not know…_

"I said, where is your master?" Klaus repeated impatiently.

The captain of the legion finally stepped forward.

"Prince Kol did not return from the war, my lord. He was captured by the Trojans."

-o-

"My lord, Prince Niklaus is outside. He wishes to speak with you."

Elijah nodded at his soldier, bidding the man out of his tent. With one last look at Caroline of Troy, now truly Caroline of Sparta, he rose from the bed and prepared to meet his brother.

There was, after all, _much_ to discuss.

Klaus entered his brother's canvas, a grim look matching that of Elijah's rendered sharply on features. The brothers' eyes bore straight into each other the moment they sighted one another, but neither of them moved nor spoke until the guard who escorted Klaus in went back to his post outside.

Elijah was first to act. He walked towards Klaus, and without any kind of warning, pummeled his fist straight and hard into his brother's face. A sickening crunch was heard as his fist connected with Klaus' jaw, drawing blood from the younger man's lip.

"That is for violating my wife." The Spartan heir pronounced, his voice dripping with both hatred and disgust.

The familiar metallic taste spread throughout Klaus' mouth. He wiped the corner of his lip with the back of his hand, the crimson liquid staining his skin.

"And this is for letting her –"

Elijah sent another first into his brother's direction, but this time Klaus caught it head-on with an open palm. He seized his Elijah's first into his own hand, almost crushing bone as he finally released all the anger that he had been keeping to himself all night. Elijah clenched his teeth in and muffled the cry of pain.

"This is the last time you will lay a hand on me," Klaus declared, gritting his words as he gripped at his brother's hand even harder. "And you will never again impose your will on me. I don't care if you are the heir of Sparta - you're worse than those motherfucking Trojans for putting that worthless woman over your own brothers."

Elijah tried to pull his arm back, but Klaus would not let go.

"And don't bother calling Caroline your wife. I know of your lies and I know that she is sister to Damon of Troy."

Elijah's eyes widened, shock and panic immediately spreading across his features. _How did he…_

"You don't have to worry." Klaus declared, easing his grip slightly. "I don't care about you, I don't care about Caroline and I can't care any less about Elena so you can do whatever the hell you want. But I am not leaving Kol at the mercy of the Trojans even if it's the last thing I do."

"What in Zeus' name gave you the idea that I am abandoning my brother to the Greeks?" Elijah snarled at his brother.

"Prove it then. Tomorrow at war, tell Damon of Troy that if he wants to have his sister back, then he has to return our brother."

The heir of Sparta swallowed. He had been thinking about it all night – how to save Kol without letting Caroline go because he still needed her in exchange for Elena – to no avail.

"If you don't do as I say or if you even try to pull tricks on me, I will tell father about Caroline." Klaus said, the coldness in his voice almost chilling. "And one more thing. From now on, you can forget the fact that we're brothers."

-o-

A/N:

1. Guys I'm now on tumblr as **erica-dreams-in-colour**. :) I've made a couple of manips for this fic that you might want to check out - just go to my FFN profile for a link to my tumblr, choose 'browse by tag' on the sidebar and then click on the image banner for Graphics/GIF's. I hope you enjoy them as much as I enjoyed making them. :)

2. To everyone who reviewed my stories this past week: I try to review back or at least reply to my reviewers, but I haven't been able to do that yet so I owe you guys one this weekend. :)


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